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A ROMANCE 


OF THE 


Milling Revolutions 


OR 


THE HISTORY OF A TYPICAL 
MODERN MILL. 



KANSAS CITY, IVIO.: 
CLIFFORD F. HALL, Fviblislier. 



Copyright, 

1886, 

By CLIFFORD F. HALL. 








A * Romance - of- the • Milling • Revolutions 


CHAPTER I. 

“ It may be all right for spring wheat, but it won’t do for winter. 
That spring wheat never did amount to much anyhow, and when they 
get hold of something that does a little better than what they’re used 
to, why they’ve got a big thing. All this talk about new process won’t 
do, and anybody that goes into it will be mighty glad to get out again. ’> 

“ But I say they're getting more for their spring wheat flour than 
we’re getting for ours, and I believe there’s something in it.” 

“ It’s just like any other new thing. They get a little money out 
of it at first, but there’s no danger of their ever making any flour out 
of their spring wheat that’s anything like ours. Why their flour is 
pretty nearly as red as our low grade.” 

“ I don’t see that it makes any difference how red it is so that they 
get the money for it. I would be very willing to see our flour look a 
little red if I thought we could have a little better business than we’ve 
had in the last six months.” 

Adam Strong looked a little hard and disturbed. He did not like 
to have his opinions controverted, nor his milling methods questioned. 
George Moore, his young partner, was a little nervous and irritated 
because the old man did not see just as he did. 

“ Well, I’m going to look into this thing,” said Moore. “ I know 
that we’re not making any money, and I know that those fellows up 
in Minneapolis are making bushels of it, and every place where they’ve 
put in the new process they’re doing well, while we’re shipping our 
flour down East and not getting a cent out of it. I tell you I’m going 
to look into the thing.” 

“ Well, you can look into it all you please, but this talk about new 
process is all bosh. I’ve been milling too long to take up with any 
such nonsense. You’ll live long enough to know that you don’t want 
to tear the mill to pieces every time business gets dull.” 

“ Business is not dull to people who are making good flour. It’s 
dull to people who are getting back as we are and getting behind the 
times.” 

‘ k Young man, do you think you can tell me how to run a mill ? 
Do you think that I’ve been in this business for thirty-five years for 
nothing ? I learned my trade before you were born. You came in 


4 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


here out of school because your old man happened to have a little 
money. I can run this mill, and when I want any help from you I’ll 
let you know ; but I don’t want to hear any more talk about this new 
process nonsense or any of that kind of gammon. I ain’t used to be- 
ing told about my own business by people who don’t know anything 
about it. You do the pen and ink work and I’ll run the mill.” 

The old man was angry, as he usually was after any controversy. 
Moore did not answer him ; as a matter of form he picked up a letter 
and began to read it, though it was one which had been answered. 

Adam Strong gave two or three short angry grunts, got up and 
walked out of the office— which was in one corner of the mill — and 
over toward the flour packers. 

“ Dick, how much low grade did you get to-day ? ” 

“Twenty-five barrels.” 

“ How much high grade ? ” 

“ Two hundred and fifty.” 

“Did you pack the low grade out clean last night ? ” 

“ Yes, sir. I pack it all out clean every night.” 

“ There’s something wrong with these millers. Too much low 
grade. Somebody’s sleeping around here. Where’s Webb ?” 

“He just went down to start the smutters, I think — there he 
comes up stairs, now.” 

“ Webb, come here. There’s too much low grade here; twenty- 
four barrels last night and twenty-five to-night. What’s the matter? ” 

“ It’s not for me to say, Mr. Strong, what is the matter.” 

“ But I want to know what is the matter.” 

Webb answered slowly. He was a miller of experience, and had 
been with Adam Strong since the war. “ Well, I’ll tell you, Adam,” 
said he ; “ look over my mill, and if you see anything wrong, maybe 
it’s me, and if you don’t, maybe you’d better look at the other watch.” 

Strong looked at his miller in a way to imply that he understood 
what he meant, but he was never confidential with anyone, not even 
his miller, in whom he had confidence. 

“ Dick, when Perkins sends any more of this kind of barrels you 
send them back. We don’t pay him for this kind of stuff.” 

Just then the wagon drove up to the mill to be loaded with flour, 
which was hauled to the railroad depot a quarter of a mile away. 
Strong took a hand in helping to load, as he usually did, though in 
this instance he was unusually vigorous in his movements. Dick, the 
flour packer, and the driver had to be very brisk to keep up with the 
old man. After he had finished he put on his coat and walked down 
the street. His eyes were cast down ; he looked heavy, depressed and 
uncomfortable. 

Adam Strong was on the way to the dam. It was a mile and a 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


5 


quarter above the mill. He always went there when anything dis- 
turbed him, and would stand on the abutment and look at the water 
as it rushed over the apron. On his way there he passed through the 
town, and in the present instance went a couple of blocks out of his 
way and stepped into a store in the public square to get a plug of 
tobacco. As he turned the first corner, leaving the square, he met 
Enos Moore, the father of George, Adam Strong’s partner. Strong 
nodded and grunted a salutation as he passed. 

Mr. Moore was talking to an old farmer friend, who said : 

“ Enos, wasn’t that Adam Strong ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Well, do you know that I haven’t seen him in nigh on to twenty 
years V Sold him my last crop of wheat just before I went to Kansas.” 

Mr. Moore was one of the early settlers of his county. He came 
here with two or three hundred dollars from Yew York state and 
worked as a farmer for several years, saved his money and invested it 
in lands, and in due time merged into a banker. As he stood there 
talking to the old acquaintance whom he had not seen for twenty 
years, he was the picture of physical vigor and mental contentment — 
a splendid figure, with clothes that fitted him in good style. He had a 
neat, clean look, silk hat, clean collar, white cuffs and w T ell-blacked 
boots. 

“Let’s see, Enos, what was your second wife’s name?” said his 
Kansas friend. 

“ I married a lady from St. Louis, a Mrs. Watson.” 

“ Oh, yes, I heard of that. Your first wife was a Cummings, 
wasn’t she, Enos.” 

“ Yes ; Eliza Cummings.” 

“ Well, well, just think of it. Why, Enos, to see you now nobody’d 
ever think that you’d plowed corn and worked in the harvest field with 
the rest of us. You worked hard to get your start, Enos, and you’ve 
been a good deal more fortunate than the rest of us, too.” 

“Yes, John, we’ve seen a good deal of hard work in our time. Eor 
my part it’s a very pleasant thing to remember. The people who work 
on the farms as laborers, as you and I have, are the happiest people in 
the world. The times which were freest from care with me were the 
times when I was doing farm work for eight dollars a month and 
board. It is the laboring people and the farm people who have my 
greatest respect, John. They live the best lives and are the most hon- 
orable men and women, the most worthy of respect.” 

“ That’s so, Enos, that’s so ; but our children don’t think that way. 
Well, I suppose little Georgie has grown to be quite a man ? ” 

“Oh, yes, George is twenty-eight years old now.” 

“ Writing for you in the bank, I suppose ? ” 


6 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


“ No. George just got out of college a couple of years ago ; then 
lie thought he wanted to go to Europe for a year, and I sent him, and 
afterwards he was in the bank with me for about six months, and did 
quite well. George has got some very good business ideas for a young 
man. He is in partnership with Adam Strong in the mill.” 

“ In partnership with Adam Strong, is he ? Why, I didn’t suppose 
Adam would ever want a partner, he’s so kind o’ independent like.” 

“ Well, Adam owed us a little more money than we thought he 
ought to, you know, and I arranged for George to take an interest in 
the business. Adam has been in need of a business partner for several 
years.” 

“Yes, yes; I see, I see. Owed you a little more money than he 
ought to. George is in partnership with Adam.” 

“ Well, John, come around to the bank before you go back. Al- 
ways glad to see you. I’ve got to go over to the court house for a few 
minutes, now. Good day, John.” 

“Well, good day, Enos.” 


CHAPTER II. 

Richard Herrick, or Dick, as the men around the mill called him, 
and his helper were nailing the last load of barrels and piling them 
ready for the next day’s work. George Moore was in the office writing 
the last letter before going home. The teamster had just come out of 
the office after having handed over the bill of lading for the last load 
of flour which he had delivered at the depot. 

“ Can you tell me where I’ll find Mr. Webb V ” was asked in a quiet, 
timid voice, of the teamster. 

“ He looked up, and hesitated as he saw a neatly attired young 
girl, standing before him with a basket in her hand. 

“ Y-e-s — no. Well, I haven’t seen him for some time; but I 
guess I can find him for you.” 

“ Oh, no, you needn’t do that. I’ll just step inside here, and I ex- 
pect that I’ll find him.” Just as she walked into the mill the teamster 
was recalled to the office by young Mr. Moore. 

“ Do you know where Mr. Webb is ? ” she asked of Richard. 

“ I haven’t seen him for several minutes, but I will go and find 
him,” he answered. As he started away he upset his nail-box on the 
floor, and the hatchet fell behind a barrel. 

“ Oh, you needn’t do that, sir,” said the girl, but Richard was on 
his way upstairs. 

In a few minutes Webb came on to the grinding floor. 

“ Why, how do you do, Lizzie ; how’d you get here V ” 

“ Why, Johnnie Briggs went out to hunt the cow and didn’t get 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


7 


back in time to bring your supper, and I coaxed aunt Mary to let me 
bring it, and if you’ll let me I’ll bring it all the time. It’s a nice walk, 
and I like to get out of doors.” 

u Well, we’ll see about that, Lizzie. Look out, there ! you’ll get 
against some grease. Would you like to look around the mill V Why, 
what’s this ? How did Dick’s nails get scattered all over the floor ? 
Guess you must have scared him, Lizzie ! ” 

u Why, yes, uncle Ed, I would like to look around the mill a little 
if you have time. I never was in a mill before.” 

Webb took the basket and put it where the cats couldn’t get at it, 
and they started to look through the mill. In the mean time Richard 
had followed Webb down stairs, had walked across the mill so that he 
could get a good look at the visitor, and was then standing in the side 
door. George Moore came out of the office and said : 

“Dick, who was that young lady who just came in here ? ” 

“I don’t know, Mr. Moore. She brought Mr. Webb’s supper, I 
think.” 

Dick walked over towards the packing floor and gathered up his 
nails, brushed up a little, walked slowly out of the mill and finally 
started home. 

“ Well, uncle Ed, I’m ever so much obliged. I’ve had a nice time. 
I must go home now, for I expect that auntie will be anxious about 
me.” 

As she came down the stairs on to the grinding floor, George walk- 
ed toward the door through which she would have to pass, and as she 
went out he saw her look up quietly with her large brown eyes. She 
walked toward home slowly, enjoying the freshness of the early spring 
on this, one of the first warm days. She had a pleasing, graceful 
figure, and wore a light gray dress and a close-fitting hat. She went 
past the public square and up one of the residence streets, which was 
lined with shade trees that were just beginning to show their bright- 
est green. All of the houses were set well back in the yards and were 
such as belong to well-to-do, comfortable people. Each one bore evi- 
dences of being a home, rather than a mere place to live. Among 
these there was one, perhaps, somewhat smaller than the rest; a low 
white house with green blinds, a small porch in front and a shed porch 
on the side at the rear. Then back of this at the side of the lot was 
an ample woodshed and chicken coop. Back of the kitchen was an 
ash-hopper. This house was owned by Edward Webb. 

Lizzie found her aunt sitting at the window of the front room, an 
unusual thing for her to do. She was more often found in the dining- 
room or kitchen. 

“ Why, Lizzie, I was afraid that something had happened to you. 
I was just getting ready to go out and hunt you up.” 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


“ Uncle Ed showed me all through the mill. He showed me where 
the wheat went in and where the flour came out, and I am going to 
take his supper to him every night.” 

u Oh, no, child, you don’t want to do that.” 

“ Yes indeed I do, though, auntie.” 

“ Well, we’ll see. Did you stop at the post-office, Lizzie ? ” 

“ Ho, I didn’t. I forgot all about it — I forgot that you asked me 
to, but I will go right back.” 

“No, no. Just wait until we shut up the house and we’ll walk 
back together.” 

“I don’t know what made me forget it. I was thinking about 
something else, I guess. It’s so pleasant this evening — so warm and 
nice that I walked along and didn’t think about anything very much.” 

“ Poor child, I am glad you don’t ; I am glad that you are happy,” 
and they walked out at the front gate together and down the street 
toward the post-office. 

Edward Webb had owned this property for several years. He was 
a quiet, steady man of no great force of character, yet one of the 
pleasantest and most agreeable of men. He was more than ordinarily 
well posted, thoroughly honorable, mild mannered, and was highly re- 
spected in the community in which he lived. He had saved quite a 
proportion of all that he had ever earned. His wife had always done 
her own work in the kitchen, and was economical and painstaking in 
all her habits. They had never had any children, and having Lizzie 
with them w^as more than ordinary joy. It happened in this way : 

Two years and a half before this time Lizzie’s mother had died, 
and her father, w 7 ho was a commercial traveler of something more 
than average ability, and received a good salary, placed her in a board- 
ing-school. He was the only brother of Mrs. Webb. The nature of 
his business kept him away from his daughter a great part of the time, 
and his death, which had occurred some two months previous, at a 
hotel in Denver, was by no means as great a shock to her as was that 
of her mother, though she felt it keenly. As his habits were not ac- 
cumulative, she was forced to leave the boarding-school soon after his 
death. She felt disposed to the change, notwithstanding this fact. 
After the burial of her father she remained for a few weeks in the 
family of one of her school friends. Her aunt offered her a home with 
her, and at the first convenient opportunity she made the journey, in 
company with a business friend of her father’s, to her aunt’s home, 
where she had arrived a few days before the incidents occurred which 
form the opening of our story. 

After Lizzie left the mill Edward Webb stood in the door and fol- 
lowed her with his eyes as long as she could be seen. For several 
minutes he stood wrapped in thought, and anyone who knew him 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


9 


could see his thoughts were far from unpleasant. He turned and went 
back into the mill, took down his basket and began to eat his supper, 
failing to make provision for the cats which were mewing and crying 
at his feet, which was an unusual thing for him to do. 

During the next hour and a half his attention was particularly re- 
quired in caring for the mill, at the end of which time he went to the 
front door for a little rest. Here, to his surprise, he found Adam 
Strong sitting on a block near the entrance. 

“Pleasant evening, Adam.” 

“ Yes, rather.” 

“ Think it’s going to rain to-morrow ? ” 

“ Shouldn’t wonder if it did.” 

“ Good head of water to-night.” 

“ I was up to the dam and raised another gate.” 

Conversation did not move very easily between Adam and his 
miller. Dick came around as was his custom every evening before 
going home for the night, and, as he had something particular on his 
mind, he did not take in the situation. After a few preliminaries 
he said : 

“I was in at Field’s store to-night, and he had some flour from 
Emmett’s mill, down here at Green City.” 

“ Why, that’s strange,” said Webb; “ was it the 4 Lily White V ’ ” 

“ No, it was some new kind of flour. He said that it was called a 
new process, and Field said that it was made in some new kind of a 
way — was made out of middlings and was better than the other flour.” 

44 Bah ! ” said Adam. 

44 1 got him to give me a little of it, and I thought that we would 
look at it in the morning.” 

44 You’d better let it alone and attend to your packing.” With 
this Adam Strong walked through the mill, out at the side door and 
toward home. 

44 Wonder what’s the matter with the old man to-night,” said 
Dick ; “ I don’t like the way he spoke to me — don’t like to be talked 
to in that way.” 

44 Something appears to be worrying him. He’s been in bad shape 
all the afternoon. Where’s that flour, Dick V ” 

44 Why, it’s in my pocket. Do you want to see it ? ” 

44 Yes, I’d like to look at it.” 

44 What is this new process, Mr. Webb ? ” asked Dick. 

44 1 don’t know much about it, only what I hear people say, and 
what I read in the milling papers, but they’ve got some kind of a way 
of cleaning the middlings on a machine, taking the bran and the red 
stuff out and then grinding it.” 

44 Is it the same kind of middlings you grind here ? ” 


10 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


( In this mill they ground the stock which came through a No. 6 
cloth on a burr and made a second grade of flour out of it. ) 

“ Yes, I guess it’s a good deal the same, but then they have a dif- 
ferent way of handling it. That's what they call the new process. 
While I think of it, Dick, you'd better not say anything more about 
the flour down to Field’s. It seems to worry the old man.” 

“ Should think it would worry him, bringing flour here from Green 
City and selling it right under his nose. Do they have to build mills 
all over when they make flour that way ? ” 

u No, I guess they just put in the machines and clean the mid- 
dlings, and then where mills are fixed like ours that’s about all they 
have to do.” 

CHAPTEB III. 

It was about half past five o’clock in the morning. The miller 
was standing by the husk-frame rubbing his eyes. A great steam 
obscured from view nearly everything in that end of the mill. It was 
like a fog. The posts, the spouts, the elevator legs, the hoops to the 
burrs, all were uncertain in outline when viewed from the other end 
of the mill. This steam came from the burrs. They were grinding 
fast — very fast and very close. One putting his hand in the spouts 
as they left the burrs, if unaccustomed to the experience, would 
withdraw it quickly, because of the great heat. This mill had made 
many phenomenal runs, in which it had turned out large quantities of 
flour. Adam and his millers were wont to refer with satisfaction to 
the week in which they made eighteen hundred and fifty-two barrels 
of flour on four run of wheat burrs. “ And we cleaned it up well,” 
said the miller on the second watch; “ we didn’t take much time for 
burr dressin’, but we got through just the same.” 

This was the largest run that they had ever made. There were 
others, which were approximately near eighteen hundred barrels, all 
of which were referred to with some degree of pride. During the last 
year, however, the demand for flour had not required such wonderful 
performances. 

The miller, Bill Peters, took up his broom and began to sweep. 
Adam expected him to have the husk and the floor around it clean 
when he came to the mill at six. He brushed the flour together— and 
there was not a little of it— sifted it and fed it slowly into the eye of 
one of the stones. Occasionally a barrel nail, which had passed 
through a hole in the sieve, would cause the burr to thump and pound 
for an instant. 

“ Hello, Bill, how are you making it ? ” said Dick. 

“About as usual. You’re a little early this morning, aint you, 
Dick V ” 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


11 


“ Yes, a little. Got up this morning to go coon hunting.” 

“ Late in the season for coons, Dick ; soon be getting summer 
coon-skins. Where do you find them ? ” 

u Oh, I just go up the bottom here, and find them about daylight 
as they come down and paddle around in the mud and shallow water 
for crawfish. Did you ever see coons hunting forcrawfish, Bill ? ” 

“ Well, I don’t know as I ever did. Never took much stock in 
coons, nohow.” 

“Well, I tell you it’s mighty funny. They’ll wade along in the 
mud and water, and when they get it so thick that they can’t see 
they’ll stick their noses up in the air just like they were thinking 
about something, and fumble and scramble around and act as wise as 
George Moore did the first time he put his hand into a sack of farmer’s 
wheat.” 

“ How do you get the coons, Dick V ” 

“ I shoot them.” 

“ Shbot any this morning V ” 

“No, I didn’t get any this morning, but I shot a muskrat up there 
just inside the head-gates. They say that you can get ten cents apiece 
for their tails by taking them to the court-house. What do you think 
about that, Bill ? ” 

“ I don’t know much about it, but I guess you can’t do it. I re- 
member up in the part of the country where I came from they used to 
have a law about woodchucks. In one county they give ten cents 
apiece for their tails, and in the other county next to it they give ten 
cents for the heads. The boys used to take all the heads to one place, 
and the tails to the other, so they got twenty cents apiece for their 

woodchucks, and d — d if that ain’t the old man coming down 

stairs ! What does that mean ? ” 

Dick moved off towards the packers. He knew what it meant. 
He knew that Adam Strong had gone up stairs without the miller’s 
knowing it, and he judged from appearances that he had come down 
with something on his mind. 

“ Bill, do you know what this mill’s doing ? ” 

“Yes, sir, I think I do.” 

“Well, I think you don’t. I was just up stairs while you was 
standing there gasing and blowing to Dick, and I found things in a 
mighty bad fix.” 

“ What’s the matter ? ” 

“What’s the matter! Why, everything’s the matter. Your re- 
turns are soft, and you are running lots of flour over into the low 
grade and lots into the feed ! This thing’s been going on here most 
too long.” 

“ Oh, I was just feedin’ in a lot of stuff from a choke. An eleva- 


12 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


tor bucket got choked and stopped the elevator. Had to feed in the 
stuff.” 

“ Look y’ here, Bill, I don’t want you to tell me any such stuff as 
that. I can tell from the low grade flour and the feed. This thing 
has been going on for more than one night. You’re a getting too lazy 
to go up stairs, and are letting things take care of themselves, and I 
guess 1 don’t need you to run this mill any longer.” 

“ Well, I’ll tell you, Adam Strong, I’ve run in my time just as 
good a mill as yours dare be. I learned my trade wdiere your kind of 
millin’ wouldn’t pass, and nobody said I was lazy, either.” 

But Adam did not hear the last of this speech. He turned to leave 
almost as soon as he had told his miller that he didn’t want him. He 
did not waste words with a discharged employee. 

“ Dick, you ought to know better than to be standing around blow- 
ing to the millers.” 

“ I think I do, generally.” 

“ Your business is packing flour. Been to breakfast V ” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Well, go and get it, and when you get through go over to Webb’s 
house and tell his wife that I would like to see him as soon as he gets 
up.” 

“All right, sir.” 

“ Guess you want me to run my watch out don’t you V” said the 
miller. 

“ Do as you please about that.” 

“ Well, when a body talks to me like a man and treats me like a 
man, why I treat him like a man, but when they come sneaking round 
and a talking to me like they was a talking to a dog, why, I can be just 
as mean as the next one. You can take your old mill and run it. I 
was goin’ to quit you Saturday night, anyhow.” 

Dick was a little ruffled, still he thought that he had gotten off 
easier than he might have expected. But there w r as the other fellow, 
who was discharged. 

“ I knew from the way the old man looked last night, that there was 
going to be trouble,” Dick said, as he sat down to breakfast. “ When 
he gets stirred up that way he seems to be all pent up ; never comes 
round all right till he discharges somebody. He'll feel better now, and 
we won’t have much trouble again for some time. But still, I don’t 
know either ; the old man’s worse that way than he used to be when I 
first went to work for him.” 

“ Well, Kichard, just you go along and tend to your work, and 
don’t interfere with any body else’s. Let other folks’ work alone 
and you will get along all right, Adam Strong or no Adam Strong. 
You never find anybody so chrochety or so easily riled up that they 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


13 


don’t like to have people around them that does their work right ; so 
you just go along and pack your flour and you’ll not have any trouble.” 

This was said by Mrs. Herrick, Dick’s step-mother. 

“ Guess that’s so, mother, but to tell you the truth, I was standing 
there gasing with Bill Peters, when the old man came up and turned 
him off.” 

“Well, you mind what I say and you won’t have any trouble, 
Richard. Who’s Adam Strong going to get to run his mill instead of 
Peters ? ” 

“ I don’t know. He’s got some kind of an idea in his head. He 
told me to eat my breakfast and go and tell Mr. Webb to come down.” 

“Well, make haste, then, and get back to the mill as soon as you 
can, and you tend to things mighty sharp to-day, Richard.” 

Dick finished his hasty breakfast; he was a little excited and 
couldn’t eat much. He took his hat from a chair in the dining room 
and started on his errand. 

u Here, Richard, take an apple,” said his mother, as he went out 
of the door, “you’ll be hungry before noon.” 

When Dick arrived at Edward Webb’s house, he went around to 
the kitchen door. The door was open but no one was in that part of 
the house. He knocked. Lizzie Gardner came to the door. 

“ Is Mrs. Webb in ? ” 

“ Yes, she will be in in a minute. She’s out milking the cow. 
Won’t you sit down ? ” 

“ Oh, no, I’ll just stand here,” and Dick swung himself over on to 
one leg and put his hand up to the door frame and looked uncomfort- 
able. 

“No, no ; come in and sit down,” and she placed a chair near the 
door. 

Dick took the seat that was offered him, but it didn’t appear to fit 
him. 

In the midst of his squirming Mrs. Webb came in with the milk. 

“ Why, good morning, Richard. Anything wrong at the mill ? ” 

“ Yes, a little. Mr. Strong wants Mr. Webb to come down as soon 
as he gets his breakfast.” 

“ What’s the matter — anything broke V ” 

“ No, nothing broke. Mr. Strong and Peters had some words, and 
I guess Mr. Strong told him that he didn’t want him any more.” 

“ Well, he’ll be getting up pretty soon, and I will tell him. Have 
a drink of warm milk, Richard ? ” 

“ Don’t care if I do— just a little.” 

Lizzie went to get a cup, and held it while her aunt strained into 
it the warm milk. 

“ Richard, this is my niece, Lizzie Gardner, who has come to live 
with us.” 


14 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


Kichard mumbled an inaudible something, drank his milk and left 
the room, saying “ Good morning.” Lizzie smiled pleasantly. 

CHAPTEK IV. 

Adam Strong took the mill until Webb came down. 

“ Webb, I came down here this morning and found things in bad 
shape, and I told Peters that we didn’t want him any more, and now 
we’ve got to get another miller. Do you know where we can get some 
one ? ” 

“ Why, yes ; since the dam went out over there at Boggstown, old 
Isaiah Parker has been out of a job.” 

“ That’s so. Supposing you go down to Williamson's stable and 
get a horse and wagon and go over there and get him, and I’ll run the 
mill till you get back.” 

It was only four miles over to Boggstown ; the roads were dry, and 
Webb was soon there. He found his man, as he had expected, sitting 
in front of a store across the street from the mill. 

“ Why, good morning, Webb, what’re you doing over here ? ” 

“I’m after you, Isaiah. We’re wanting a miller, and I thought 
I’d come over and get you. Can you go back with me?” 

“ Well, I don’t know. I had a little job around home I was think- 
in’ o’ doing, but I guess it don’t make no sort o’ difference about that, 
and I believe I’ll go over with you.” It was not long until he was 
ready and they were on their way back to the mill. 

“ Well, I suppose you got your burrs in pretty good order after the 
dam went out, Isaiah.” 

“ Yes, I did, Webb, that’s so. I’ve been a dressing burrs now for 
nigh on to forty year, and, without saying too much for myself, I think 
I knov something about fine stone dressing.” 

“ What dress have you got in, Isaiah,” said Webb. 

“ Oh, I’ve got in my old Maryland dress — the one I learned from 
my old boss. You see, on a four-foot stone I put in twenty leadin’ 
furrows with an inch and a quarter draft to the foot, and the furrows 
one inch wide at the eye and an inch and a half at the skirt. Then I 
put in twenty furrows of the same breadth, givin’ them the same draft 
as the leadin’ furrows, cuttin’ them in twelve inches from the skirt. 
Then I cut the short furrows from that into the leadin’ furrow at an 
angle o’ forty-five degrees towards the eye of the stone. You know 
what forty-five degrees is, Webb? It’s just like cuttin’ across a 
square.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ I say that some things is absolutely necessary to make a high 
grade of flour. The furrows must be dressed smooth, and I tell you 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


15 


that’s where lots of millers are wanting. Smooth furrows takes lots o’ 
time.” 

“ Well, about the furrows,” said Webb, 1 always make them as 
smooth as I can with a pick. I never used a rubber or anything of 
that kind, and I don’t know much about it. There’s a good deal of 
difference about burr dressing, and a great many people that have dif- 
ferent ideas manage to get along pretty well — all of them do. One 
miller says 1 dress your burrs fine,’ and another gives exactly another 
idea. I think that it is necessary first to find out the kind of stock 
there is in your burr and the kind of wheat you intend to grind, and 
then you know how to dress. I think the main point is to have the 
burr in perfect face, or as near so as it is possible to make it.” 

“Yes, there’s lots o’ difference, but if a man isn’t to go by experi- 
ence what is he to go by ? After a man has been dressin’ burrs as long 
as I have he ought to know something about it. If he can’t learn by 
dressin’, why, how can he learn ? Our forefathers knew somethin’ 
about millin’, and you know we have to take the experience of every- 
body. Millin’ is a science, Webb, and if a man don’t study the science 
of millin’, why he’ll never do much, that’s all. Now there’s those that 
believe in a heavier draft than I do, but a heavy draft discharges the 
meal too fast, so that you must run too close to get your bran clean. 
Now, my draft isn't too heavy, and it isn’t too light, and I don’t have 
to run it so close but I can just clean my bran and leave my flour bright 
and lively. But I’ll tell you what I’ve done ; I’ve made a hundred and 
twenty barrel of flour on one pair of four-foot burrs in twenty-four 
hours ; and then there’s another place where I run a three-and-a-half 
foot burr with a small stream of water and made from seventy-five to 
eighty barrel of flour in twenty-four hours. What experience has 
taught me I know. How do you crack your burrs, W ebb ? ” 

“Oh, I generally crack them pretty light near the skirt, and a little 
heavier towards the eye. But then the stone’s got a great deal to do 
with that. I believe you ought to regulate the fineness of the dress 
according to the quality of the stone. Let the dress be wider and 
heavier in a hard, close stone, and finer and lighter in an open stone. 
Every stone ought to have grit or natural sharpness, but if it hasn't 
got it you have got to give it to it with a pick. If you make a dress 
too heavy, why, you pulverize the bran, and that of course will make 
poor flour.” 

“ Yes, that’s so, but I guess I believe in a little more crackin’ than 
you do. I believe that every stone ought to be cracked, and cracked all 
over. 1 believe in a clear, fine crack, forty to forty-eight to the inch. 
My old boss could put in sixty that looked just as clean and fine as 
hairs. But to do fine crackin’ without breaking the face of the stone 
a miller must have practice, and time, and lots o’ good picks, which he 


16 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


must keep true. Then if he can’t crack clear, he’d better not try to 
crack so fine, or he’ll break the face. Where you’ve got plenty of fine 
cracks, and got ’em all over the burr, why, you don’t have to grind so 
close, if you do you’ll kill the flour ; but if you want to clean your 
bran, or if a part of the stone is smooth, then you’ve got to come down 
on it, and then you kill your flour.” 

“ I never saw a miller who could put in forty-eight cracks to the 
inch.” 

“ Well, do you see me V I can put in forty-eight cracks to the inch, 
and there was a miller that used to live in my part o’ the country that 
could put in seventy, they said. I never saw him do it, but they said 
he could do it.” 

“ I never saw a burr that was cracked very fine that was in face.” 
And thus it continued until they reached the mill. Parker was posi- 
tive and somewhat arrogant in speech, while Webb had a quieter but 
more reasonable disposition, and was not inclined to antagonize the 
old miller, or to say anything which would make the conversation any 
more spirited. 

They arrived in town in time to eat dinner at Webb’s house and 
get to the mill a little after twelve o’clock. 

CHAPTER V. 

Some two or three months had passed — uneventful months. That 
is, the mill had been running most of the time. The stops, such as 
they had been, had only lasted a few days. Trade had not been very 
good — “But .then, you know, it never is, this time of the year,” 
said Adam. In the steady running of a mill we find the uneventful 
period ; it is the normal condition of things. The shutting down is an 
incident, an occasion to refer to. u You remember,” says one miller 
to another. “ the time that we were shut down to clean out the race,” 
or “ the time that we burnt out the step in the water wheel,” or some- 
thing of that kind. Such incidents are like the marks on the dial of a 
clock. In a miller’s memory it was “just about a week before we 
stripped such and such a wheel,” or about “ a month after we put a 
new tail cloth on the lower reel.” 

As we look into Adam Strong’s mill this time we find it stopped. 
As we walk across the floor there is a hollowness of sound, a lonesome, 
unnatural sound, which is depressing and disagreeable to one who is 
accustomed to being about the mill during its running period, the 
period of its life. In contrast with this, we have the period of its 
death. In this instance we look for the undertaker, and find him in 
the person of Peter Wilkins, the millwright. He is sharpening his 
chisels ; he is in no great hurry, and his movements are deliberate. 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


17 


He has the oil stone before him, and he rubs and then examines the 
edge of the tool critically by drawing his thumb across it in a way to 
make a sensitive person shiver. 

“I’ve had that chisel five years this coming spring, Webb.” said 
Wilkins. 

44 Never loaned it much then, did you ? ” 

44 Loaned it ? No, I guess not. I never loan the tools that I work 
wuth. People that want to borrow tools as a general thing don’t know 
how to use ’em, for if they knew how to use ’em they’d have ’em of 
their own.” 

44 I guess that’s so.” 

The work on the chisel was about finished. Examinations were 
more frequent. He ran his thumb over it for the last time, whipped 
it across the palm of his hand, wiped it with a handful of shavings 
which he had made in constructing some trussles, and then took out a 
saw, to file it. He was there to fill a wheel, and all of the preliminaries 
had to be gone through with. 

44 I bought that saw,” he said to Webb, 44 when I put in that new 
bolt in old man Merrill’s mill. He come to me one night about half 
past nine — it was when Lizzie’s first baby was two months old — and 
he said, 4 Pete,’ says he, 4 I’m a thinkin’ about puttin’ another bolt in 
the old mill ; what do you think of it?’ 4 Well,’ says 1, 4 1 have always 
been a great believer in plenty of boltin’.’ Says he, 4 what do you 
think it will cost ?’ And said I, 4 1 don’t know, but I’ll tell you what 
I’ll do. Uncle Bob,’ says I, 4 I’ll just do it as cheap as it can be done, 
and when we come to settle I know w r e’ll have no trouble.’ And says 
he, 4 Pete I guess you had better go ahead and do it.’ And if I do say 
it myself, I don’t believe there’s a better bolt in this part of the state. 
I hadn’t much more than got through that job when I went over to 
Boggstown to fill a wheel just about like this ’un. That was about 
two months before Isaiah Parker went there. They had a miller then 
by the name of Bill Spurgeon. He fell out of the back winder and 
struck his head in the tail race when there was no water in it, and was 
never much good after that.” 

44 Didn’t it kill him ? ” said Dick, who was helping Webb change 
some elevator buckets. 

44 No, but it used him up pretty bad. He always claimed, after 
that, that somebody pushed him out, but I never thought they did, 
and neither did anybody else. I guess he was settin’ there in the win- 
der and got to dozin’ and dropped out.” 

After this there was a little pause, but not long. He commenced 
again like this : 

44 Fillin’ a wheel is a mighty particular job ; somethin’ a man’s got 
to take his time to. If it ain’t done just right it’d a good deal better 


18 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


not be done at all. When I get through fillin’ a wheel it’s done right. 
It’s the kind of a job I like to do. Don’t allow nobody to tell me 
nothin’ about fillin’ a wheel.” 

Then there were reminiscences about wheels which he had filled 
and filled right, and wheels which had been filled by other parties and 
had not been filled right, and of the dire consequences which had be- 
fallen mill-owners where there had been too much haste in such an 
operation. After the saw had been filed he had occasion to cut a piece 
off from a four-inch stick. The piece dropped on the floor, and he 
picked it up and squinted at it in a quizzical kind of a way, looked at 
Webb in an authoritative spirit, and said : 

“Well, sir, this is the hardest piece of wood that I ever saw.” 

Webb said nothing, but remembered that he had heard the same 
Peter Wilkins say the same thing about every piece of hard wood that 
he had ever cut. Noon came, the trussles were made, the chisel had 
been sharpened and the saw filed. 

In the afternoon, while George Moore was sitting in the office 
writing a letter, a tall, well-dressed man, wearing a silk hat, walked 
into the office. Moore stood up and took his card. 

“ Ah, Mr. Cooke, how do you do, sir ? When did you leave New 
York ? ” 

“ The 19th of last month. Is this Mr. Moore ? ” 

“Yes, sir. Be seated.” 

“ I met your partner, Mr. Moore, when I was through here some 
three years ago. How do you find business ? ” 

“ It’s only fair. How is business in New York ? ” 

“ Well, I’ve been away from home some time, you know, and am 
not very well posted, but I judge it’s fairly active just now.” 

“ Which way have you been, Mr. Cooke ? ” 

“ I have been up through the Northwest.” 

“ Pretty busy up that way ? ” 

“ Yes, they're crowding things very strong. The new process is a 
great thing for the spring wheat country. They’re getting good prices 
for their flour.” 

“ What do you think about new process on winter wheat ? ” 

“ I think it’s exactly the thing. Everybody who has tried it has 
proved it so, though of course there is not so much change as there is 
on spring wheat, but I think that you will all have to come to the new 
process. The market is the place to judge these things after all. The 
flour that brings the most money is the kind to make. What is your 
idea? ” 

“ I think the man who sells the flour knows more about that than 
we do.” 

“ There’s something in that,” said Mr. Cooke, “ but of course the 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


19 


miller always has to weigh the selling price and the cost price together; 
but I understand, from talking to millers who are making new process 
flour, that there is not a great difference in the cost. The yield is a 
little higher than by the old way, but then there is more than the dif- 
ference in the selling price, and quite a little more, too, allow me to 
say.” 

“ My business experience is limited, but I am inclined to think 
that one kind of business is no different from another as to general 
principles, and that if one has goods he wants to sell, he must furnish 
whatever the people want. The best and most prosperous business, 
as I understand it, is brought about where both parties in the trade 
are satisfied.” 

“That’s it exactly.” 

“ If I make a flour that your customers want and are well satisfied 
with, they come again, and I am able to sell at a profit which they are 
glad to pay to get the right kind of goods. As I understand it, this 
principle applies* to all kinds of trade. My partner is not favorable to 
new process milling because he knows more about the other. He says 
there is no reason for a change ; that the old milling is good enough.” 

“ Yes, that’s the way a good many of them talk. Pretty hard for 
them to change.” 

“ One thing is very clear to my mind, and that is that we have got 
to change our mill or get out of the business. Why, there’s a mill a 
little way from here, down at Green City ” 

“ Yes, I know them.” 

“ as you know they put in new process about four months ago, 

and we begun to hear of the flour right away, and it wasn’t long be- 
fore they began to send a little of it up here. I think it’s a little over 
two months ago. Since that time there has been more of it sold right 
along, until now it is beginning to seriously affect our local business.” 

“Emmett, of Green City, makes a tip-top flour. We handle it, 
and could sell twice as much of it if we could get it.** 

Just then Adam strong stepped in. 

“ Why, how do you do, Mr. Strong ? ” 

Adam extended his hand with an inquisitive look. 

“ But maybe you do not remember me ; my name is Cooke, of 
Falin & Co., commission merchants, New York.” 

“Oh, yes, I remember you, but I couldn’t exactly place you; we 
see so many of ’em. How's business in New York V ” 

“Well, as I was telling your partner, I have been out since the 
nineteenth of last month, and am not very well posted, but I judge 
that business is moderately active. I see that your mill is not run- 
ning, Mr. Strong.” 

“ No, we shut down to fill a wheel. New \ ork has been a dull 
market for us lately ; but then it generally is this time of year. 


20 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


u Oh, I don’t know, the demand for flour has been better this last 
spring than for some time past. You ought to be doing pretty well 
there now.” 

“ I’ve been telling Moore, here, that I didn’t think our house down 
there was doing just right by us. We used to get about as good as 
there was in the market, and now we don’t do it. Have you looked at 
our flour ? ” 

“ No, I have not, but I would like to.” 

“ I’ll go out and get a sample,” said Moore. “ Here, Dick, come 
and let down the packer for me.” 

“ Don’t you think that new process is cutting into you a little, Mr. 
Strong ? ” 

u No, I (^on’t. That new process business is all a humbug, and 
will soon die out.” 

“ Maybe that is so, Mr. Strong, but, viewing it from my end of the 
line, I think you are mistaken.” 

“ A man who makes flour ought to know something about that. 
This kind of millin’ is older than you or I, and people have been think- 
in’ about it a good while, and it ain’t something that’s to be thrown 
away in a day. Wiser men than them that has to do with the new 
process of millin’ has worked out the old millin’, and it stands to rea- 
son that somethin’ that has been worked out in years is not all goin’ 
to be thrown away in a day, or all at once. If we ever get anything 
better than this kind of millin’, which I don’t say we may not, we’ll 
not get it all in a hurry ; we’ll get it in the same way that we got the 
old kind — by long years of experience.” 

“ I don’t know anything about milling, Mr. Strong. My business 
is to sell flour, and I think I know the kind that sells best. I 
know who buys the flour ; I know what they pay for it, and I know 
what they do with it, and the difference in price between the old pro- 
cess and the new process on winter wheat, to say nothing about spring, 
will make any man rich in a short time.” 

“ I think that the man who sells flour knows more about the kind 
to make than we do, Mr. Strong,” said Moore, who had returned with 
a sample from the packer. 

u I have never felt any need for their advice.” 

“ Considering the condition of our business, Mr. Strong, I would 
say that we need some advice just now.” 

“Oh, well, gentlemen,” said Mr. Cooke, interrupting, “this thing 
will come out all right ; let’s look at the flour. But I’ll tell you, Mr. 
Strong, I don’t think you millers visit the markets enough. There is 
no place like New York to see the kind of flour that your neighbors 
are making, and to see what they are getting for it. I would be very 
much pleased to have you go to New York with me when I return, 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


21 


which I shall do immediately on reaching Chicago, and see just the 
kind of flour people want, and to hear what the bakers and the people 
who use flour have to say about it. I think you will find out some- 
thing about the wants of flour buyers and flour users which you can- 
not find out at home. Of course there are things here which you 
cannot find out in New York, about the cost and all that.” 

“ Yes, and that is a very important matter,” said Strong. 

“I would be very much pleased if Mr. Strong would do as you 
suggest. I can think of no better time to do it than now,” said Moore. 

“ I can’t afford it,” said Strong. 

“ Oh, you should go as a matter of firm business — go for the firm. 
This is not a personal matter.” 

“ I haven’t been East in twenty years,” said Strong. “ I was born 
just ten miles from Philadelphia.” 

“ Ah, indeed ! Then it would be pleasant for you to go at this 
time.” 

“ I’ll think about it,” and he went out into the mill. 

He returned immediately to the office, and said: “I’ll see you 
again, Mr. Cooke. Moore, I am going up to the dam to shut down a 
gate ; there’s too much water coming down,” and the old man walked 
up the race bank with his slow, steady pace, his stolid face more stolid 
and thoughtful than ever. He stood on the abutment and looked into 
the water. It was there that he did his thinking. 

“ I think the old man will go,” said Moore, as Strong left the 
office. “ He’s gone up to the dam now to stand there on the abutment 
and look into the river and think about it. That’s the only bit of sen- 
timent that I’ve ever been able to recognize in the old man. To see 
him stand there and look and dream, as he does sometimes, listening 
to the water roar— why, I would think that he was in love, if it wasn’t 
that he was married and was too old.” 

They both laughed. 

41 But, seriously, Mr. Cooke, you have done me a very great service, 
and if the old gentleman goes, as I think he will, and I intend to insist 
on it, why you show him the true state of the flour market— show 
him the flour that is bringing the money. Tell him where it is made, 
if you know, and when he gets home I’ll drag him out, and he and I 
will go and visit the mills.” 

“As I said to him,” replied Cooke, “there’s no place like New 
York to find out what your neighbors are doing, and if it is possible 
to convince any living man as to what he ought to do with his mill, he 
will be convinced by what he sees, without any one saying anything 
to him. It’s as plain as the nose on your face.” 

During the latter part of the conversation Cooke had been exam- 
ining the flour. 


22 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


“ In regard to this flour, Mr. Moore, I think I have a trade for just 
about such flour as this. It’s an up-river family trade. They’re not 
all acquainted with the new process yet, and I think I could place 
some of it for you.” 

u Well, we might try a car-load or two. What do you think you 
can get for it ? ” 

u Well, I’ve been away from home for some time, but, as I said, 
I’ve got a place for flour just like that. I’ve got a peculiar trade for 

it, but I think that it ought to bring $ ,if it was on the spot to-day. 

I will send you a brand as soon as I get home.” 

“ Can we not use one of ours ? ” 

“ Oh, no. I think we’d better send you a brand, then we can just 
keep it for that trade.” 

u Some one looking for you there, Mr. Moore, I think.” 

“ Excuse me.” 

George put on his hat and coat and went out to the carriage. His 
step-mother was there with a young lady whose face he could not see 
at once. 

“ You are acquainted with Miss Gardner, are you not, George ? ” 

“ Oh, yes. I have met Miss Gardner here at the mill several 
times.” 

“ I have discovered in Miss Gardner a very talented musician. 
She sings and plays most beautifully, and I have begged her assistance 
in our Sunday school entertainment next week, and in which she has 
kindly interested herself. I called to say, George, that if it is con- 
venient we would like to have you come to supper a little earlier this 
evening.” 

“ Certainly. Miss Gardner, we are very much in need of some one 
who can help us out in our music.” 

u I’m afraid I can’t do much, but I am glad to do what I can. Do 
you like music ? ” 

“ I like it very much, and I think I appreciate good music, though 
I have no ability myself.” 

u If you know really good music I shall be afraid to play where 
you would hear it, and besides I’m much out of practice.” 

“ What time do you wish me to come, Madam ? ” said George as 
they prepared to leave. 

“ Be there a little after five o’clock, if you can.” 

At the use of the word “madam” in this way, Lizzie raised her 
eyes, just a little, and in an instant figured out the true relation, Mrs. 
Moore being George's step-mother, and that he did not recognize the 
relation as being altogether satisfactory to himself. He was very re- 
spectful, as she saw, but in no degree affectionate. 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


23 


CHAPTEK YI. 

Adam Strong went to New York. He did not go as quickly, how- 
ever, as his partner would have had him. Mr. Cooke left for Chicago 
on the evening following their conversation as to the projected journey, 
and while Adam had agreed to go, he could not promise to meet Mr. 
Cooke in Chicago and make the trip with him. Two or three days was 
too short a time to change the course of his regular movements, and 
then he had to have some new shirts, his wife said— and she had to 
make them— and a new suit of clothes. He had to think about it all, 
had to say two or three times that “ he didn’t think he ought to go, it 
was no use,” and all that. But he did go. He had a new gray suit 
and a new pair of boots and a new white hat. Under his turned-down 
collar, which was home-lnade, there was a heavy silk neck handker- 
chief. With his heavy carpet-sack and the encumbrance of an entirely 
new outfit, he looked uncomfortable and disagreeable. He would 
straighten his neck around and twist it as though he wanted to stretch 
it out of the collar. 

As to his experience in New York, we will not follow him. He 
was gone quite three w r eeks. He was in the city about a w r eek, and 
the rest of his time was spent in visiting people at his old home in 
Pennsylvania. 

George Moore was in the office on the evening previous to Adam’s 
arrival. His mind was in a state of expectancy and hope. Adam had 
not written anything about the flour or about the prospect of a change. 
Moore took this to mean that the old gentleman had become convinced, 
but did not like to acknowledge it. He felt sure of the outcome, how- 
ever. Adam arrived late that night, and the next morning was 
wandering about the mill in that uncertain way which is "usual to 
those who have been away from the line of their regular work for a 
time, and who, when they return, have more or less difficulty in taking 
up their work where they left off. They do not see anything waiting 
for them ; they do not know just what to lay their hands to; they feel 
lost. It is a disagreeable sensation. Adam went through the mill and 
found it about as he had left it. The office was about the same as 
usual, and there were others who were doing the work that he had 
been accustomed to do before he left. To an old man, with fixed 
habits, one who had been used to coming into the mill every morning 
and of knowing exactly what he wanted to do, or knowing that he did 
not want to do anything, the situation was annoying, almost disturbing. 
His partner came in a little early that morning, and grasped him by 
the hand quite vigorously. It was something more than an expression 
that he was glad to see him— it was that and more too. It meant, as 
George thought, that the time had come when they were about to 


24 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


make a business change to which he had looked forward. This being 
a time when his hopes were all but being realized, as he thought, he 
coupled this feeling of satisfaction with the other feeling of joy at 
seeing his partner at home. 

“ Everything seems to be all right here,” said Adam. 

“ Oh, yes, everything has moved along very smoothly.” 

“ Have you raised the price of wheat any since I have been gone V ” 

“ No. It’s just the same.” 

“ That’s right.” 

“ How did you find everything in New York ? ” 

“First rate. Good many changes since I was there last. It was 
the year before I came West— twenty-one years ago.” 

“ How is the flour trade there ? ” 

“ Well, they’re sellin’ lots of flour there, but as to just how trade 
was, I could tell as much about that here as I could there. Did Hi 
Peters bring them sacks back that we lent him just before I left ? ” 

“No.” 

“ Next time that you see anybody in here that’s goin’ out his way 
I think you’d better send him word. I see there’s some screenings 
down there in the cellar that need to be sacked up. I guess I’ll go 
and take care of them.” 

Not a word about flour or new process milling. Moore was dis- 
couraged and angry and non-plussed. His expectancy was crushed. 
When he wished to talk about flour and what Adam had seen in New 
York, Adam wanted to know about a dozen sacks that had been loaned 
some three or four weeks before, and instead of giving an account of 
his trip he must take up a half day’s job of sacking screenings. From 
the way Adam had started in, George had little doubt that he would 
take a two or three days’ tinker with the dam. 

Moore put on his hat and coat and started down street. He 
glanced down in the cellar, as he passed by the outside door, and saw 
Adam with scoop shovel in hand sacking the screenings, Bob holding 
the sack and jolting them down. Moore went to his father’s bank and 
told his father that he would like to see him privately for a few 
minutes. He related his experience with Adam. 

“Well, George,” said his father, “it was all right sending Adam 
down East ; that is, it didn’t do any harm ; but I never had much 
faith in its bringing him around. He’s too old a man, and is too hard 
headed to change his mind suddenly. Now you may bring him around, 
but I doubt it.” 

“ Why, father, you never said anything of that kind before. Why 
didn’t you say that before Adam went away ? ” 

“Well, there were two reasons. In the first place you proposed 
his going, and were anxious to try the experiment, and then Adam 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


25 


wanted to go. He kept saying that he didn’t care to, but still the old 
man was very anxious.” 

“ What shall I do ? ” said George. 

u Well, I’ll tell you what to do. You let the old man sack his 
screenings, and let him do what other puttering he’s got to do. Let 
him have a few days to himself. Don’t say a word to him about his 
trip, and he’ll not say anything to you, you may be sure. After he 
has noticed that you are silent on the subject, having expected you to 
say something to him, why then you can come down hard. I have 
been making inquiries among some of my business friends in regard 
to this new process business, and I learn that every one who is making 
flour that way is making money, and that’s all I care to know about 
it. I know you are not making money, and I think the sooner the 
change is made the better. If Adam don’t want to make it, why we’ll 
make it without him. It’s got to be, done. We’ll have a clear under- 
standing on that subject before many days.” 

“ Why not do that now ? ” 

“A few days will not make any difference. Just let the old man 
alone a while.” 

George was restive and nervous for the first day or two, but as the 
time passed he felt easier. He recovered from his disappointment, 
and began to feel a satisfaction in his ability to bring Adam into line. 
As George had expected, Adam found that there was something wrong 
with the dam. He told Moore that he saw a place there that he didn’t 
like, and he believed he would take one of the men and go up there 
and fix it, and there he stayed for three or four days, stopping at the 
mill a few minutes morning, noon and night. After that it was some- 
thing about the mill. He was rarely in the office. The qlder Mr. 
Moore had told his son that he thought it was time he should talk to 
Adam about the new process. George trembled a little, hesitated, but 
withal was glad of his opportunity. 

“ Would you rather I would talk to him ? ” said his father. 

“Oh, no. It’s best I should do it.” 

“Don’t allow him to excite you or make you angry, but tell him 
very plainly that it’s a business matter, and that the change will have 
to be made, with him in the business, if he so desires, but without 
him, if necessary. 

George went directly to the mill, and for the first time since Adam 
had been home, found him reading the paper in the office. As he took 
off his coat to seat himself Adam was preparing to lay down his paper 
and go out. George’s silence on the new process question since his 
return from New York had disturbed him. 

“Wait a moment, Mr. Strong, I’d like to have a little talk with you.” 

“ Al l right ; what is it ? ” 


26 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


“What did you find out about the new process while you were 
gone ? ” 

“ Oh, I didn’t find out much that I didn’t know before. 

“ Did you see some of the flour ? ” 

“ Yes, I saw some of it.” 

“ Well, how did it look ? ” 

“ It looked nice enough.” 

George hesitated. 

“ Did you think it was good flour ? ” 

“ Well, I can’t say that I did. I don’t think that it amounts to 
much.” 

“ The question is, does it sell for more ? ” said George. 

“ Yes, I believe it does, but there isn’t much of it. They don’t 
make flour that sells for much more than the other.” 

“I guess, taking it all together, it sells for more than ours, 
don't it V ” 

“ Well, maybe it does, but I don’t think the flour amounts to 
much made that way. I believe we can make it better our way. 
Don’t believe our burr dressin’s done the way it ought to be. I’ll 
have to look after that myself. I can make just as nice flour as any I 
see while I was gone without any new process.” 

“Mr. Strong, I do not feel competent to talk to you about this 
subject from a milling standpoint. I have looked into it in a business 
way, and take a business view of it, and I propose to act on business 
principles. The situation is this : We have been losing a little 
money every day for six months, and I have no doubt that our milling 
is as well done as anybody’s who is milling this way, and who mills 
for the general market. Now I know of others who are milling on the 
new system and who are making money. There are those who are 
even coming into our local, trade. I am in the milling business to 
make money, and I will say to you right now that this mill is going to 
be changed to the new process unless you’ve got enough money to buy 
me out.” 

Adam made an angry gesture and began to say something. 

“ There’s no use in getting angry about this, Mr. Strong. This is 
a business matter, and it isn’t going to do any good to say harsh 
things. I say it again, that this mill is going to be changed to a first- 
class new process mill unless you have enough money to buy me out.” 

“ I suppose you and your old man has got this thing fixed. The 
old man crowded you in here, and now I guess he wants to crowd me 
out.” 

“He has no such disposition; quite the contrary. As to my 
being crowded in here, your statement is unjust, but as that is not the 
matter at issue we will not talk about it.” 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


27 


“You hold the money and I guess you can force me into it. I’ve 
got nothin’ to buy you out with, and then I’ve got nothin’ to put in to 
buy new machinery with. I suppose you’ll want to slice into my 
interest in the mill about that much.” 

“ No, I don’t want to do either. There is no occasion for it. Our 
account is good for a certain cash payment, and then we could make 
settlements for the balance with our notes.” 

“Well, remember that I say I was forced into this thing, and if it 
don’t pay it’s not my fault.” 

“ It is very clear that it is not your fault. Since we are settled in 
this matter, I’ll tell you the next move that we must make. We must 
look around amongst some of the other mills that have the new pro- 
cess and see who we want to do the work.” 

“ I guess you can do that without me.” 

“ I don’t want to, and don’t intend to do it without you. To make 
everything pleasant and agreeable you should interest yourself as 
much as possible in it. When this mill is changed, and without you 
taking any interest in it or caring for it, or knowing anything about 
the new arrangement, it would certainly be very unpleasant for you. 
And then without this interest or knowledge you certainly could not 
run it, and your partnership would be a pension.” 

“ I guess it would not be a pension very long, or will not, anyhow.” 

“ There is no use in prolonging this tone of conversation. I have 
no desire to do anything in a business way that would make you feel 
uncomfortable or interfere with your present interest in this business, 
and with your co-operation in the work that we are to do, nothing of 
this kind will happen.” 

“ Well, I suppose I have got to learn my trade over again — rather 
late to commence.” 

George had made a forced march. He congratulated himself upon 
the result thus far, but it could not have been otherwise. Adam 
Strong was in a position where his naturally gruff temper, when 
angered, could not do him any good. He was quick to recognize it 
when Moore took a firm stand and practically threatened him with 
a loss of his interest in the mill. Like all men who are accustomed to 
having their own way, who are more used to driving than being 
driven, Adam followed well when he had to. George had had about 
all of this kind of talk that he wanted. He was a little pale and 
quite a little nervous as he walked out of the office and on to the 
platform immediately outside the front door. 

The next morning when George Moore came to the mill he was 
feeling very comfortable. He had a pleasant good morning for every 
one whom he passed on the street. His salutations were more than 
usually sunny and bright. They were the reflections of his inner 


28 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


feelings. He was about to make a business change, and, as a young 
man, he could not but believe that any change which he wished to 
make would be an improvement. This is an especial weakness of 
young men, and those young in business. In their ignorance they are 
full of hope in regard to everything. 

Dick was waiting for orders in regard to branding some barrels. 
Moore, in the exuberance of his spirits, said : 

“ Well, Dick, we’re going to put in the new process.” 

“ Well, Mr. Moore, I'm glad to hear that.” 

“ Why are you glad, Dick ? ” 

“ Well, I know something about this new process flour. I hear 
the people talking about it in the grocery stores at night. There is a 
good deal of it sold here — more of it all the time, and I was afraid 
that it affected your business.” 

“ It has affected our business.” 

“ That time when we shut down so long I went down to Green 
City and staid around the mill there for a week, and I think I found 
out something about it. The new process flour, you know, is made 
out of the middlings, and I tell you their middlings look mighty nice 
as they come on to the burrs from the purifiers ; they look just as 
pretty and white — lots different from the middlings in this mill, Mr. 
Moore — and then they grind them, and that’s what makes the new 
process flour. The miller down there is a friend of mine, and he 
showed me all around, and I stayed with him all the time that I was 
there. I wish that I could learn the trade.” 

“ Why can’t you ? ” 

“ Well, there’s not much chance here, and then you want me to 
pack the flour ; but I must manage it somehow. I don’t want to pack 
flour all my life.” 

“ Well, we’re going to change to the new process, and then maybe 
there will be some chance for you to learn.” 

“ My friend down to Green City wanted me down there, but I 
thought I wouldn’t do it. I thought I wouldn’t leave here.” 

“No. That’s right.” 

About nine o’clock George was interrupted in reading his 
newspaper by the entrance of Lizzie Gardner and her aunt, Mrs. 
Webb. 

“Mr. Moore,” said Lizzie, “I want to avail myself of your offer to 
loan me your boat, not for myself, but to take aunty across the river 
to see Mrs. Anthony.” 

“ Why, certainly, but this time I must charge a certain hire. I 
must be allowed to row you across myself.” 

“ There is no need of our troubling you that much. Auntie 
wanted to go across this morning, and as she spoke of it I was 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


29 


reminded of your offer. I am used to rowing and don't wish to 
trouble you. 

“ It would trouble me very much to be denied the pleasure of 
rowing you across.' 1 

In the meantime he was getting ready to go. 

u Don’t you think that it would be well for me to row the boat, 
Mrs. Webb V ” 

u I always was afraid of the water, but then we mustn’t trouble 
you.” 

By this time they were all leaving the office together, and Lizzie, 
who would not have asked this favor for herself, was somewhat 
disturbed. He helped them into the boat, rowed up stream a little, as 
the current was swift, and then came down towards the other shore. 
As it was arranged, Mrs. Webb went on her errand and Moore and 
Lizzie took a little ride in the boat. He rowed up stream and she 
rowed down, and he thought she did it very nicely. 

CHAPTER VII. 

At this time new process milling was something which was men- 
tioned in a way entirely distinct from ordinary milling. To be sure it 
was different, but it was mentioned in a way that attached mystery to 
the process. A man would ask for new process flour with an air which 
would lead one to believe that he questioned whether or not this flour 
was to be made out of wheat. The customer would say: “ I have been 
using the new process for some time, and it’s the flour forme.” It 
was this public expression and this public demand which brought new 
process milling into general use. No one desires to expend money on 
a mill or in mill building because he is introducing a novelty— because 
he is doing something different or unusual as estimated from the do- 
ings of other millers. The millers themselves were somewhat mysti- 
fied by the name “New Process,” and, as is usual in the introduction 
of new ideas, they were met with opposition. There is always a feel- 
ing of respect for and a hesitancy to discard that which has been with 
us during past years. The old style milling, the low grinding system, 
had its traditions and its associations, and the millers who had learned 
their trades under it were loth to give it up. There was an opposition 
to the throwing aside of that which had required so much time and labor 
to learn, and the new process milling was regarded by many practical 
millers as something which would separate rhem from that which had 
given them position in the past. They felt that there was a possibility 
of their having to learn their business over again ; they knew how they 
stood before the introduction of the new process, but they did not 
know what would be in store for them under the new order of things. 
As an uncertainty they dreaded it. 


30 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


Adam Strong was led on a trip to a number of new process mills 
by George Moore. In some of the places which they visited they were 
received with great attention and kindness, while at others they were 
regarded as interlopers, and treated with coldness. One mill owner 
said: -‘We have paid to get this new process, we have worked at the 
thing ourselves, we have spent money to get it, and if you want to 
know how to do the same thing, you’d better find out the same way we 
did.” This was an invitation to leave. Adam did not show any more 
interest in new process milling than he had ever shown before. He 
went into a mill as an unwilling visitor and passed for the quiet man— 
the man who was all attention, saw a good deal and said nothing. Geo. 
Moore asked the questions and did the talking for the two. After 
they had gone some of the millers and mill owners would say : “Well, 
the old one, he was pretty shrewd. He didn’t say much, but he kept 
his ear open. He’s a good one.” 

It is always the case in visiting mills that one sees the best side of 
the milling. He hears the best stories which are to be told, but learns 
of none of the troubles which have been encountered to lead to certain 
results. He knows of none of the complaints in regard to the flour, 
nothing about the high percentages of low grades or the low percentages 
of high grades. The talk is all about low yields and satisfactory per- 
centages, and the prices for flour which are given are the highest 
ones. 

When they reached home George Moore did not feel altogether 
satisfied with his trip. He had seen better milling than they were 
doing ; he had seen nice flour, and felt satisfied of the benefit to be 
derived from the new process, but he had not seen anyone who seemed 
to thoroughly understand the logic of the new process. They all 
talked about it in a vague, uncertain way as being something which was 
removed from the ordinary, and which was, in a measure, outside the 
limits of reason and general understanding. While away Moore had 
taken the names of some of the millwrights, of those who had to do 
with the building of the mills. He was desirous of knowing the rea- 
sons which would lead him to certain results. His education had been 
in that direction. 

After having been at home for a day or so, and having talked to 
Webb about what he had seen, he decided to write to one of the mill- 
wrights, the one who had been recommended to him the most highly. 
Their work had always been done by a very careful and industrious 
mechanic of a neighboring town. He was very skillful, and the quality 
of his work was all that it should be, but the new order of things de- 
manded something more than a machinist, something more than a man 
who could frame a hurst, put up a piece of shafting, or fill a wheel. 
It required some one who understood processes in their advanced state 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


31 


It was after the begining of the change to the new process that so much 
of the millwright work was done in the shops by machinery. At that 
time the iron hurst was invented, and the bolts were made and set up 
in the shops rather than laboriously framed and put together in mills. 
The work of the new process millwright was in the line of new pro- 
cess work in another sense than that of milling ; it was new process 
millwright work. The machinery he could buy in a foi*m to be set up 
in a mill, and though the display of mechanical skill was less 
marked than before, the skill in arrangement, the knowledge of mill- 
ing proper, the knowledge of processes and the intricacies of milling 
operations was, of necessity, much greater than before. 

The millwright to whom George Moore had written made his ap- 
pearance. He was a smart, shrewd talker, an energetic man, full of 
the accounts of the successes of others for whom he had done work ; 
could tell wonderful stories of the profits which had been realized in 
the mills which he had planned and of many of the remarkable per- 
formances of those mills. No question could be put to him but what 
he could give a bright and convincing answer. 

“ Why,” he said, “ when I went down there to the White Star 
Mills they could hardly sell their flour. The mill next to them had put 
in the new process and was humming along all the time. I went down 
there and told them what they ought to do and how to do it, and just 
what it would cost ; and they told me to bring the men down there 
and put them in and go to work, and we did it. I put in a couple of 
bolts, and the purifiers, and a re-grinder, and made a change in the 
dress of the stones — and I tell you I’ve got the best dress for making 
middlings in the country — and they started up and ground out some 
flour, and I shipped it down to New York and some to Baltimore, and 
they haven’t had an idle day since.” 

This was the way, during these times. The talk was more about 
the successes, the general business results, than it was about the 
methods of the milling. The results were the interesting features to 
the mill owners ; they had not the patience, for the most part, to care 
for or appreciate the methods which led thereto. If they had taken 
the little time necessary to inform themselves in this regard, there 
would have been less of the experimenting and less of that which was 
inordinately expensive and harassing to tholSe who were financially in- 
terested in the mills of those times. They said to themselves : “ Here 
we are promised certain results ; if we get those results that is all we 
want.” And here they stopped thinking. It was hardly so with George 
Moore. He was young yet, and had more of the natural enthusiasm 
which belongs to young men than had many of the older millers of 
that time. He was interested in his business for its own sake. He 
showed a deep concern in the logic of the results, and in that way ex- 


32 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


cited the attention and interest of the millwright, who was thoroughly 
capable in his way, was abreast of the times, and who felt an interest 
in and a respect for those w T ho wished to inform themselves, in a mill- 
ing sense, of what was really going on. 

Webb was one of the few older millers who took a lively and 
absorbing interest in the developments of the times. He had long 
talks with this millwright and Mr. Moore, at which times Dick was 
always on hand, and listened with breathless interest. Mr. Moore was 
very glad to have Webb around for the reason that he could ask the 
millwright more intelligent questions than he could himself, and then 
Moore could take the advice of a practical man, one in his own em- 
ploy, and whose judgment w r as not warped one way or another with 
reference to the changes which were to be made. Webb’s presence 
gave Dick a license to be on hand, and he, much to the surprise of his 
senior, washable to give the points of difference between a new milling 
which the new millwright would suggest and that which was in use 
in the Green City Mill which Dick had visited. Webb had conceived 
a very high regard for Dick during the months which had passed, on 
account of the great interest which he had shown in milling matters 
and the development of considerable skill in understanding the method 
which was talked about and written about during those times. Dick 
had spent a great deal of time in the mill after his working hours 
learning to grind, and in following Webb about and looking into all 
that was being done in the mill. It had not been an unusual thing 
during the last month or so for Dick to go up to Webb’s house on 
Sunday and talk about the mill and that which was to be done. 

George Moore could not get much help from Adam Strong in the 
way of deciding just~what was to be included in the contract for the 
mill ; most of his consultations were with Webb. In a short time a 
contract was concluded. It was thought best to put four new reels in 
the new mill, and to put double conveyors under the four old ones 
which they already had. Then it was agreed that they would take out 
the old rolling screen ,[whiclCwas said to take up too much room, and 
to put in a separator and a smutter. They had a smutter, but it was 
thought best to put'in a new one. Then they were to have a re-grind- 
ing stone and a bran stone. Most important of all were the purifiers, 
four in number. This was a big change, a large addition of machinery, 
but it was decided that it was the best thing to do. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The contract was closed on Saturday. The next day those im- 
mediately interested were inclined to search out one another and talk 
about it. Moore met Webb and Dick walking down street towards 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


33 


the mill. Dick had commanded their respect through his interest and 
intelligence as displayed in the consideration of what was about to be 
done, consequently he was not regarded as an interloper. After 
dinner Dick took a walk up the race bank towards the dam. Any one 
who did not know him, seeing his neat fitting clothes and his quiet, 
dignified carriage, would not imagine that he was a worker in the mill 
at low wages. There was none of that careless swinging or those 
uncertain movements which belong to people without the ordinary 
ambitions towards an advanced condition. 

Dick had come from good stock. His father had occupied a posi- 
tion of trust in a neighboring city for many years, but ill health had 
prevented him from entering into general business competition and 
acquiring a competency. His idle moments had been spent in literary 
training, and more money than could well have been spared from his in- 
come was expended for books. After his death, which occurred about 
six years before this time, Dick and his step-mother found it necessary 
to exert themselves to the utmost to make even a fair living. His 
mother had contributed largely to their support during the first of 
these years by sewing. She was not a woman of the same quality or 
disposition as Mr. Herrick’s first wife. She was industrious, generous 
in spirit, and in every way in which her disposition led her a kind and 
generous woman. But she did not appreciate Dick’s tendency toward 
a studious life. 

As Dick walked up the race bank, he saw a little party sitting well 
up the side of an embankment under the shade of a tree. He thought 
that he recognized Webb, and as he got closer he saw Lizzie Gardner 
and Mrs. Webb. 

“ Why, Richard, are you taking an afternoon stroll? ’’ said Mrs. 
Webb. 

“ Yes, I was taking a little walk. Good afternoon, Miss Gardner.” 

“ Come up here and sit down,” said Webb. 

“ I thought you went to Sunday school, Miss Gardner,” said Dick. 

“ I do, but I go in the morning. It seems to me that you ought to 
be better informed than that.” 

“Well, there are other things that I know more about than I do 
about Sunday school, but I guess I’m not too old to learn.” 

“You might try and see what you can do.” 

Lizzie turned the conversation by saying to Dick that she under- 
stood from her uncle that he was trying to make a miller of himself. 
She was a little afraid that he might ask her to show him the way to 
the Sunday school which she attended, and while she had no particular 
objection to his company she did not care to put herself in a position 
for him to ask to accompany her. 

“ Do you think that you will like milling ? ” said she. 


34 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


“ Well, you see, I have to like it. I’ve spent about all of my life 
in a mill, and I’ve no time to begin anything else and reach anything 
soon that will pay. You see I wanted to go to school, I wanted to 
learn more than I have, but I couldn’t do it. We moved over here, 
mother and I, and as she took good care of me when I was small, as 
soon as I was large enough I felt that I ought to do for her. Yes, J’ll 
like milling. There is a chance to think as well as a chance to work.” 

Webb and his wife walked over towards the dam. Milling was so 
much a part of his work during the week that he could not entirely 
separate himself from a part of its duties even on Sundays. There is 
always a suspicion of leaks in the dam in the minds of millers who are 
used to working in water mills. Lizzie and Dick said that they would 
stay under the tree and watch the basket while the older people were 
away. 

“ Uncle Ed says that you are very much interested in the new 
process milling, and that you really know a good deal about it.” 

“Mr. Webb is very kind to me, and has been ever since I first 
went into the mill.” 

“He’s kind to everybody. He’s been just as good to me as he 
could have been if I had been his own child. After father died I 
wanted to go to teaching but he and Auntie wouldn’t let me say one 
word about it, and insisted that I must stay right here with them.” 

u Would you like to teach V ” 

“ No, I don’t believe that I would, but it seemed that it was right 
that I should take care of myself and not be a burden to anybody.” 

Dick said nothing. He was half lying down in the grass cutting out 
a piece of sod with his knife, and was too much wrapped in thought 
to answer her. He was wondering how many years it would be until 
he would master the art of milling and be in a position to— well, Dick 
was just formulating what he wanted to do when he reached the 
coveted position. It was too daring to give the thought decided form 
even in his mind, but he was sure he was going to make a good miller 
of himself and be able to make some money, and 

Lizzie sat still too. It is hard to carry on a conversation by 
one’s self, and Lizzie was apt to be a little quiet at times. 

When Webb and his wife came back from the inspection of the 
dam the hospitable aunt unpacked the lunch basket and took solid 
comfort in making them all eat a good deal more than they wanted. 
After the basket was again in order they walked towards home, Webb 
and his wife talking about household matters, and Lizzie and Dick 
following behind. Dick had been offering to loan Lizzie a book of 
his father’s, about which they had been speaking, when Lizzie said : 

“ All of my mother’s books were packed away with the rest of 
her things when I came out here, and I don’t see any way of getting 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


35 


them now. It would be less lonesome — no, I should not say that ; I 
mean that it would seem as if I were not so far away from her, if I 
had her books and little things here.” 

“ I never heard you speak of your mother before.” 

“ No, I don’t speak of her often. You see she and I were always 
together, and when she went, there didn’t seem to be much left in the 
world. I had never known my father well. He was kept away from 
home by his business most of the time, so mother and I were always 
together. She taught me, so that I did not have to go to school, and 
we were never apart.” 

“ Dick did not know what to say. He felt sorry for Lizzie, and 
wanted to say something to show his feeling, but a boy of twenty 
does not have words of sympathy at his command. There was a 
silence of a few moments, w T hen Lizzie said : 

“If it had not been for Uncle Ed and Auntie I do not know what 
I should have done when father died. I never knew my mother’s 
family, although they lived only a hundred miles or so from where we 
did, and if I had not come here I would have been alone in the world. 
I did not know them very well for I had only seen them once — one 
summer when mother and I were here for a few weeks.” 

When they reached the gate Lizzie asked if he would not come 
in, an invitation which was heartily seconded by Webb, but he re- 
fused because he thought it better and went on. If he had known that 
George Moore went to the house a few moments after his departure 
and took Lizzie out boat-riding — her aunt ref using to go, as she had 
done very often of late — he might not have felt so comfortable. 

That evening Webb and his wife sat talking after Lizzie had 
gone to her room. They had been talking of her for some time. They 
were both very fond of Lizzie, but Webb seemed to think more of his 
“ little girl ” than did his wife. 

“ I don’t see how we ever got along before she came. When she 
is out of the house now it is so lonesome that I wonder how we could 
stand it if she were not here at all,” said he. “I wonder if the child 
is happy here. I mean, I wonder if she has company enough. You 
know we are not just like what her mother was, and our ways aren’t 
what she has been used to. Lizzie’s mother had such dainty ways 
about her and kept her house so different from what other people did 
that the child may miss it. Then she doesn’t have much young 
company, only just what she sees there at church and when she helps 
them sing.” 

“ Why, Mrs. Moore has been kind to Lizzie.” 

“Oh, yes, she’s been kind enough, but I guess she won’t put 
herself out of the way to make the child happy. If it happens to 
come in her way to ask Lizzie to her house to sing for her, or anything 


36 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


of that kind, why she’s going to do it, but she’ll forget all about her 
any other time.” 

Mrs. Webb did not see things in just the same light that her 
husband did, but she said nothing. She was happy and contented 
herself and did not see why Lizzie should not be also. Webb went on 
after a moment’s silence : 

“The child is always cheerful and always seems to be happy. 
Maybe I’m wrong in thinking she needs anything.” A moment’s 
pause. “I wonder if she would like to go back to school this year ? 
We can afford to send her if she wants to go.” 

“ Well, I should think that a girl most eighteen had been to school 
long enough.” 

“ But if she wants to go, why she ought to, and we ought to send 
her, though I don’t see what we would do without her.” 

The next morning Webb gave Lizzie quite a large sum of money 
for a man in his position, and told her to get some of those “ fixin’s 
that girls like,” and when she protested and did not want him to do so 
much for her, and asked if she did not look well enough in what she 
already had, he said : “ Why, yes, little girl, you always look pretty, 
but take the money and get a new bonnet, or something else,” and 
Lizzie took it. 

CHAPTER X. 

The elder Mr. Moore and his wife were sitting at home talking- 
The subject of conversation was a picnic which Mrs. Moore was 
planning to take place in the near future. The place and means of 
conveyance had been selected, and the people who were to be invited 
were under discussions. A list for a picnic is always subject to 
revision until the invitations are actually out. Mr. Moore had but few 
suggestions ; this was his wife’s line, and while he was not averse to 
any social festivity, he left the preparations to her, having had 
abundant evidence that she enjoyed the work. When the list was 
about finished Mr. Moore said : 

“ Why don’t you invite that little girl who used to come here to 
sing when you were practicing for your Sunday school concert, Jennie 
no,— Lizzie Gardner, isn’t she ? ” 

“ Oh, she hardly belongs with the rest we have down.” 

u Why ? She is certainly just as pretty and well bred as any one 
I know ? ” 

“ Yes, she’s pretty enough and her manners are all right, but—” 

“ But what ? ” 

“ Well, she’s only the niece of one of the millers in George’s 
mill.” 

“ Well, Webb’s all right. He’s just as straightforward a man as I 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


37 


ever knew. I must say that the girl made an impression on me, and 
that I would like to see her again.” 

“ I guess she’s made an impression on one of the other members 
of the family, if one can judge by what one sees.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ George.” 

“ Well, what has George been doing.” 

“ Oh, I’ve seen him out riding with her several times lately, and 
they were out boating last evening together. A young man of 
George’s age is apt to make a thing of that kind too serious if some 
one doesn’t take the matter in hand. It wouldn’t do at all.” 

“Well, I can’t see why it wouldn’t do if it suits them. She’s a 
lady all through, as far as I can see.” 

“ O, yes, I haven’t any fault to find with Lizzie, but it would 
hardly do for George to marry into the family of one of his millers.” 

“ Well, I can’t see that it would any harm. George’s father was 
not in any higher position than that when the young man came into 
the world, and I can’t see that any one is any worse oft for that now. 

Mrs. Moore dropped the subject. She knew that when she and 
her husband started on the subject of his early struggles and worldly 
position that they would not agree. He was rather proud of the fact 
that he had not only earned his position by his own foresight, but that 
the greater part of his education was the result of his effort in hours 
when his other work did not take his times. Mrs. Moore thought very 
highly of social position, and any suggestion that it had not always 
been her husband’s before she knew him was to be put out of sight and 
not considered. 

“ I wish Lucy Elliot could be home for our picnic,” said she. 

“Why, is she coming home? It has been a long time since 
I saw her ? ” 

“Yes, she will be here soon. You see she has been away at school 
for two years, and last summer I saw her when I was East. She’s a 
beautiful girl, as straight as an arrow, with hair and eyes as black as 
coal, with a complexion worthy of a queen. She’s been to one of the 
seaside resorts this summer since she left school, and will be home 
very soon. Her mother told me to-day of her coming. She’s the kind 
of a girl for George. ” 

Mr. Moore laughed. He was used to his wife’s plans for George’s 
future, and he only said : “ 1 guess George will find out for himself 
which girl he likes best. It’s a good thing to leave matters of that 
kind to adjust themselves.” 

And George did find out sooner than his mother was ready that 
he should. 

M was a small town, but not so small but that it had its 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


88 

aristocracy. This aristocracy was young ; the town had only recently 
emerged from that period of its existence in which there are no ac knowl- 
edged class distinctions. Mrs. Moore was the leader of the aristocracy 
and did much to draw the lines close. There was a constant tendency 
to the former democratic simplicity, and without some one to uphold 
it there was danger that there would be a relapse. The former Mrs. 
Moore had been too busy with the cares of her household during the 
time when her husband was making his money to give any time to 
society, had she been so inclined, and after there was no need for her 
to give so close a supervision to her house she still did it from force of 
habit. After Mr. Moore’s second marrige his house became the center 
of all the festivity of the town. Mrs. Moore had been a society woman 

before her marriage, and on coming to M she took the lead very 

naturally. Mr. Moore rather enjoyed the new order of things, and felt 
proud of his wife’s ability and the manner in which she entertained 
their friends. 

The evening after the convesation between Mr. Moore and his 
wife, Mrs. Moore took occasion to consult George as to the names of 
those whom she had invited. She did not care much for his opinion, 
and had not thought of changing her list, but she was desirous of find- 
ing an opportunity for suggesting to him that his attentions to Lizzie 
were rather marked. After she had read the list she asked his opinion 
of it. 

“ Are you not going to invite Mr. and Mrs. Willard, madam? ” 

“ Why, yes ; their names are there ; did you not hear them ? ” 

George said that he had not, and added: “ 1 did not notice Miss 
Gardner’s name either.” 

Here was Mrs. Moore’s opportunity, but she found it hard to use 
it. She was somewhat afraid of George. He had a quietness about 
him which inspired people with respect for him. 

“No, 1 had not thought of asking her. She hardly belongs — she 
is not — well, her position is hardly such as would warrant it.” 

“Miss Gardner’s advantages and accomplishments are superior 
to those of any one here, and she is the equal of any one whom I have 
ever met anywhere.” 

“Yes, George, all that may be true, but the position of her relatives 
here is not such as would make it proper that she should be made 
one of us.” 

“It hardly seems to me proper that any one who is the equal, to say 
the least, of any one here, should be condemned to associate with those 
not congenial to her, simply because the death of her parents places 
her with them.” 

“Was not her father a brother of Mrs. Webb ? ” 

“I believe so.” 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


39 


“ Well, there must be some similarity then in the minds of her 
and her aunt. I cannot see that there is any thing unjust in leaving 
people to the station to which they were born.” 

“George said nothing. He was angry and went out of the house 
and walked over to Webb’s, to take some new books which he had re- 
ceived that day. Books had furnished the occasion of many a visit 
there, and were likely to be a good excuse for some time yet. 

In course of time the day of the picnic arrived. George had said 
nothing more about an invitation for Lizzie, although he had thought 
about it several times. Mrs. Moore had not sent the invitation, 
having no intention of carrying out what an invitation would imply. 
The attention which she had shown Lizzie at the time of the Sunday 
school entertainment was no more than any one engaged in that 
entertainment received. It meant nothing as to the future social 
enjoyments of the village. It is fair to say that Mrs. Moore was much 
pleased with Lizzie, and if she had not seen George with her 
frequently might have taken her under her care. She liked young 
girls, especially if they were pretty and engaging, and enjoyed having 
one to ride with her and entertain her at odd hours. She had not done 
a wise thing when she refused to send the picnic invitation to Lizzie, 
but she did not know the effect the omission would have on George. 

George did not refuse to go to the picnic ; in fact, he went and 
enjoyed himself. He had no thought of making an issue with his step- 
mother on so small a matter. Although there had never been any very 
cordial feeling between them, there had never been any trouble, and 
there was not much probability of there ever being. George had too 
high a respect for himself and his father to allow any thing to come 
between him and his father’s wife, and Mrs. Moore was too wise to 
antagonize her husband’s son and heir to any great extent. Again, 
she looked to George to help her hold up the family standard, and any 
show of democratic feelings such as his father expressed distressed 
her beyond measure. 

A couple of evenings after the picnic George rode over to Webb’s 
house to ask Lizzie to go riding with him. It was now some three 
months since he had taken her across the river with her aunt, and in 
that time he had taken her boat and buggy riding very often. It was 
a great pleasure to have the change from the quiet life of her aunt’s 
home which was afforded her by these evening drives. Her aunt and 
uncle were very glad of anything which gave her any pleasifte, and, in 
their simplicity and lack of worldly knowledge, gave the matter no 
thought other than the fact that it made the girl happy. 

Lizzie accepted the invitation and the two drove out into the 
country. It was early and the light was good. George thought that 


40 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


he had never seen her look so pretty. She had on a white dress which 
had some ends of ribbon to give it color, and over this she had thrown 
a white shawl, which had been her mother’s. A broad white hat 
completed a costume which is always becoming to youth and beauty. 

“ The warm days will soon be over ; it is nearly fall,” said George- 

“Yes, but the winter is always pleasant. There is something 

pleasant about all the seasons. I am anxious to see M in the 

winter ; it has been so beautiful here this summer that it cannot but 
be pleasant later.” And so they talked about the weather and the 
books and themselves a little, and said nothing which meant anything, 
after the fashion of young folks who are having a pleasant time. It is 
later in life that people talk about serious things, although young 
people have a great many serious questions to settle and do a good 
deal of thinking. It is a rare thing for young people to talk about 
what they are really thinking ; they are shy of their own thoughts. 

George drove slowly. As the daylight faded and the moon made 
things pleasantly bright, he sat watching Lizzie as she chattered on, 
hardly thinking what she was saying. He was thinking that she was 
very lovely, and that it would not be a bad thing to have someone like 
her always by him ; in fact that she would make life altogether more 
to be desired. He had never thought of marrying Lizzie before ; she 
had simply been a pleasant companion, and if it had not been for Mrs. 
Moore’s interposition it might have been a good while before the 
thought would have come to him ; but the idea that Lizzie was not 

considered a desirable addition to M society made him think all 

the more of her engaging ways, and a young man thinks fast and 
moves in dispatch in matters pertaining to love. Clearly he could do 
no better than to ask her to be his wife, and as such her position would 
be secured and Mrs. Moore would gracefully accept the situation. 
Besides this, the success of the mill made it not only possible but 
desirable that he should have a home of his own, and he felt the 
elation which business success brings. 

Lizzie was talking on and playing with one of the roses which she 
had worn in her belt when George put out his hand and said : “ Won’t 
you give me that rose, Lizzie ? ” 

Lizzie looked up at him with her brown eyes all filled with 
surprise. He had never called her Lizzie before, and no one had ever 
used that tone of voice to her. Not knowing what else to do, or what 
to say, she held out the rose to him, which he took and held, as well 
as the hand that gave it. Lizzie drew her hand away and looked down 
and felt frightened. George was a little frightened himself. This 
was his first love making, and no matter what a man’s age is, there is 
always a little timidity about the first attempt at telling a woman that 
he loves her. 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


41 


George put the rose in the button hole of his coat and then put his 
hand toward her. 

“ Won’t you give me the hand, too, Lizzie ? ” 

Lizzie was very much disturbed, and did not know what to say. 
She was not quite sure as to what he meant, so she said nothing, and 
kept up a close scrutiny of the roses at her belt. George waited a 
moment. That moment made him all the surer that he must and 
would have this reticent little girl for his own. 

“ Don’t you see what I mean, Lizzie ? Don’t you see that 1 love 
you ? ” 

“ Oh, Mr. Moore.” 

A pause. 

“ Why don’t you answer me, Lizzie? I want you to tell me that 
you love me, and that you will be my wife.” 

Lizzie tried to speak and could not for a moment. When she did 
it was so low that George could hardly hear her. 

“ I can’t say that, Mr. Moore.” 

“ Why, Lizzie ? ” 

“Because it would not be true.” 
u But, Lizzie, you do not love anyone else, do you ? ” 

“Oh, no.” 

“ Then you are sure that you don’t love me just a little ? ” 

“ Oh, yes.” 

George waited a minute. He was not a young man to give up any 
thing easily, and every minute made Lizzie that much more desirable. 
Then he slowly said : 

“ If you don’t love anyone else, I can make you love me, and I am 
going to do it, Lizzie.” 

Lizzie’s head sank lower, and her hands worked nervously. It 
was an ordeal for a girl as shy and unused to the world as she was. 
George faintly realized her distress and said : 

“Have I troubled you, Lizzie ? I wouldn’t do that for the world. 
But don’t you think that I can make you think of me as I do you ? ” 

“ I am afraid not, Mr. Moore.” 

George did not press the matter farther, but, while he ceased to 
speak of it, he had not by any means ceased to think of it. They rode 
on for a short time in silence, when George said in his usual tone of 
voice : 

“ Did your uncle tell you how nicely the mill is doing ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

George talked of indifferent subjects until they reached Lizzie’s 
home, leaving her to be silent. As he helped her out of the buggy 
he said : 

“If you Will be at home next Wednesday evening, I want to 


42 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


bring over some engravings I bought when abroad. I think you 
will enjoy them.” 

Lizzie could do no less than say for him to come, although she 
would much rather he had not made the suggestion. 

Lizzie slept very little that night. George had been the one relief 
which she had had from the society which surrounded her aunt. His 
modes of thought were more like those to which she had been 
accustomed during the lifetime of her mother, and the thought that 
she must lose that companionship was not pleasant. Still she did not 
see how it could continue. There was a little irritation in her thought 
of him. Why should he spoil so pleasant a friendship by being so 
foolish as to fall in love w'ith her ? 

The next day she was pale and had a headache. Her uncle was 
much disturbed, and feared that she was going to be ill, and tried to 
think of what they could do for her to give her a change which might 
keep her from the threatened illness. Lizzie tried to reassure him but 
did not altogether succeed. 

CHAPTER XI. 

The change in the mill had been made. The mill had started — 
had started a day or two before they were ready, which is frequently 
the case with new mills, but in the end they had to “ shut down ” and 
complete arrangements before they got things to moving smoothly. 
This was a time of some little anxiety to Moore and Webb, and it was 
the occasion of lively interest and enthusiasm on the part of Dick. 
Adam Strong went about in his usual way, and while there was a taint 
of apathy in his disposition, he showed more interest in what was 
going on than might have been expected ; yet it was more on account 
of the habit of supervising work, of seeing it done and criticising the 
workmen, than from a desire to forward the changes in the process. 
His interest, what there was of it, was one of detail rather than one of 
a general character. In a few days the mill came around to show 
what it would do. There had to be some changes in the flour and a 
few changes of spouts. There were several monstrous chokes which 
Adam said would never have occurred in an old process mill, and 
there was more or less trouble to get the middlings to travel properly 
on the sieves of the machines. They sometimes showed as great a 
tendency to run backwards as forward. But the middlings came 
around to the burrs and were ground. They were nice looking 
middlings. A farmer said that they looked just like corn meal, and 
the flour which came from them was pretty and bright. 

Acting under the advice of his commission merchant, George did 
not put his brand on the flour first made, though he was rather anxious 
to see the words “new process” on the barrels which left the mill. 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


43 


He had had some nice brands cut, but after a time — a week, maybe — 
he sent some samples of flour to New York with instructions to sell to 
arrive at a certain figure, a figure which George did not expect to get, 
as it was only a little below the best winter wheat patent. The flour 
had only been in New York a few hours when he received a message 
offering ten cents less than his price for a car lot. He was very much 
elated and accepted. He showed the telegram to Adam. 

“ Well, Mr. Strong, what do you say to that, now ?” he said, in 
good natured exultation. “ You see that’s pretty near a dollar a 
barrel more than the old flour.” 

“ Yes, that’s from your middlings flour, but what are you going to 
do with the other ? ” 

“Why, its better now than the old flour was.” 

“ Its better than the old flour, if you can sell it for more.” 

u We are doing that, sir.” 

“ O, well, it won't go that way long, I’m afraid.” 

There were the incidents and accidents which have to do with the 
starting of all new mills, an annoying, tiresome process. It was three 
or four weeks after the start until the last millwright left the mill. 
The flour moved off very nicely. The mill apparently was doing well. 

Again George Moore went to Adam Strong with good reports of 
the work. 

“ How much wheat are you taking to run the mill V ” 

“ You’re in the mill and I should think you’d know. I guess we’ll 
take a yield.” 

“I think we’re taking more than we ought — more than we, ever 
did before.” 

In a few days they were able to take the yield. It included the 
last two weeks out of the four weeks run on the new mill, and while 
it was somewhat higher than George had expected, it showed a very 
nice profit to the mill. But withal Adam was not persuaded. 

“ If the mill moves along this way for some time,” George said to 
his father, “ it will please me very well to have the old gentleman 
dislike it. He seems to have his head set against the new process, 
whether it makes money or not. If it proves to be as good a time as 
it looks I’ll buy him out. He’s no good to us in his present state of 
mind.” 

“ Yes, we’ll be able to buy him out, I guess, if the mill continues 
to do as well as it has done.” 

It had now reached that time of year when if there was any 
market at all for flour it moved with a boom ; it was about the first of 
September. It was at this time that the New England buyers used to 
buy their winter’s stock, that those in New York were anxious for 


44 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


good flour ; and our mill was making good flour. Everything was as 
satisfactory as well could be. The first note which had been given to 
the machinery company for their supplies had been met, and without 
in the least embarrassing the working capital in the mill. It indicated 
that there was a nice profit in the business. 

Dick was still at his old work, packing flour, though he was very 
restive in thus being set aside from the practical operations of the 
mill. His natural enthusiasm led him to enter with a whole-souled 
spirit into whatever attracted his attention. His first real interest in 
the mill dated from the time tvhen the Green City mill came into 
their territory and sold new process flour. His thoughts at that time 
were of apprehension, and, at the same time, he was curious as to the 
general process which would enable them to make flour superior to 
Adam’s, who, despite his lack of commercial success, was regarded as 
a great miller by the general population of the town. It will be re- 
membered that Dick’s interest in this affair had led him to take a trip to 
Green City to investigate in his own way the operation of the mill. His 
interest and his evident honest purpose secured for him the friendship 
and patronage of both George Moore and Mr. Webb, and at the same 
time he received several bluffs from Adam. We know how it was 
that he followed all of the details when the mill was being built and 
started. To go back to his flour packing was rather depressing. He 
did not like it, but he worked along through force of will, taking 
every minute that he could to look about the mill, to feel the grinding, 
to watch the purifiers and bolts, so that it was only a short time until 
he thoroughly understood the details of the operations of the mill and 
the relation of one part to another. When the mill was shut down for 
any purpose, from the breaking of any of the machinery, or on ac- 
count of a choke, he was always eager to help get it started again. 

While they were changing the dress on the burrs, as they did 
when they made the change to new process, Dick helped to furrow 
out, and really was able to do a very creditable piece of work for one 
who was so new at the business. 

It was at this time that Dick’s step-mother died. She had always 
been a sufferer from inflammatory rheumatism, and during recent 
years had had more or less trouble with her heart. One morning she 
complained of feeling unusually uncomfortable, and asked Dick if he 
couldn’t stay away from the mill for a little while, and as the discipline 
was not very strict about the mill, and he felt that he could readily do 
this. 

“If you say so, mother, I will send word over to the mill that I 
will not be there to-day.” 

“ Oh, no ; you needn’t do that. I’ll be feeling better pretty soon. 
Just you go and get a bucket of water and put it on the table, and 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


45 


then wait around here a few minutes and I guess everything will be 
all right. But somehow I don’t feel just right this morning.” 

Dick took the bucket and went out to get the water. As he came 
in he heard a groan, and hurried into the front room to find his mother 
lying partially across the bed, evidently having fainted. He called in 
the neighbors, and started for the doctor. But it was no use. She 
was dead. 

She had been a good mother to him. She was all that Dick had, 
as he felt. She was the only one who took a real hearty interest in 
what he was doing. To her he had given every thought ; everything 
that had happened during the day had been repeated to her at noon or 
in the evening. To have all of this happiness and sympathy, to have 
this object of his affections so suddenly taken away from him, was 
indeed a sad blow. 

Every one was very kind and sympathetic to him in his trouble, 
and his bearing at this time was such as to command the respect of 
all. Mrs. Herrick had a great many friends in town, and her funeral 
was a large one. 

Dick found it hard going back to work again, but once there and 
busy, it was easier. A few days after this, when he was down street, 
he was met by the elder Mr. Moore who had some kind words to say 
to him, and during their conversation he asked Dick if Mrs. Herrick 
did not have a little property. 

“ Yes,” he said, “ she had the home there, and the garden patch 
by the railroad.” 

“ Well, you ought to have an administrator appointed, Richard, 
and pay off her little bills if she has any, and collect whatever may be 
owing her ; and if there are no other heirs, as 1 understand there are 
none, why you can have the property made over to you. 

“ I don’t like to be in a hurry about such things.” 

“ I understand that — I understand just how you feel, but it ought 
to be fixed up at once. Have you any one in mind that you would like 
to have administer on the property? ” 

Mr. Moore had charge of a great many large and small estates. 

“ I think Mr. Webb would suit me better than any one else.” 

“ Mr. Webb is a very nice man, but I do not think that he has had 
much business experience. He is a most excellent man.” 

“ I guess he has had enough experience for that little business,” 
said Dick, who felt the pressure. 

Following the suggestion of Mr. Moore, an administrator was 
appointed in the person of Mr. Webb. 

Adam Strong felt as much out of place three months from the 
time that the change had been made as he did the first day that the 


46 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


mill started on the new plan. He went through the mill at the usual 
hours, but not in the old way. He appeared to have nothing in view, 
excepting to cover so much territory. He went up to the dam more 
often than usual, and stood there and looked into the water ; he would 
raise or lower a gate as a matter of form, and come back to the mill. 
Then he would go up stairs dragging one foot after the other, which 
was in remarkable contrast to his former vigorous demeanor. Webb 
virtually had charge of the mill, though his position in this respect 
was not formally recognized. As a matter of fact he was regarded as 
the head of the milling operations. Adam never questioned his posi- 
tion. One day when Adam was in his office, after they had been 
making some very comfortable sales of flour, George said to him : 

“ Well, Mr. Strong, the mill is certainly doing very well.” 

a Yes, mills generally do pretty well this time of year. You’ll 
find it as dull as ever in the winter.” 

This was the way Adam felt. Nothing could change his mind, 
not even the realization of the profits of the mill. He had sacrificed 
a principle ; he had been opposed to changes in the mill, and they had 
been made over his head. 

The winter came on, and while the business was not as brisk, and 
the profits not so large, the mill continued to run and run at a profit. 
It was during these times when the flour did not go so easily that 
Dick made what he considered a great triumph. He had solicited the 
privilege of taking some samples of flour to some grocerymen friends 
in Green City, and they had made some small purchases, and in a 
little while, stimulated somewhat by a little misunderstanding with 
their own miller, and by the calls from the users of this flour, began 
to order quite liberally. Once when Dick came back from an evening 
visit to Green City, for his trips were made at this time, he was able 
to report a sale of about twenty barrels of flour. Thus he felt the 
mill had been vindicated ; that while the Green City mills had sold 
flour in the territory which belonged to our mill, the turning of the 
tables was a great feat. To him it meant a good deal. The sale of 
the flour was appreciated by George Moore. 

“ How would you like to quit packing flour and go around to some 
of these other towns and see what you can do V ” asked George. 

“ I don’t believe that I would like it. When I make a change why 
I’d like to go in and run the mill.” 

“ Well, I guess you could learn to do that, Dick.” 

“ Yes, I think I can.” 

Well, we’ll see what can be done.” 

It was a few weeks after this conversation that Dick was sitting 
one evening in the office of the mill. He had been looking around, 
examining the grinding, and had oiled the mill for Webb. He was 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


47 


looking over a New York produce exchange report when George Moore 
came in. 

“ Well, Dick, you down here.” 

u Oh, yes, I always come down after supper. I come down to look 
over the mill, and help Mr. Webb a little. He shows me everything 
and is very kind.” 

“ Well, I guess you are getting along pretty well, Dick.” 

“ I hope so,” said he. “Did you know, Mr. Moore, that the rail- 
road company are going to build their shops here.” 

“ I understood so ; in fact there has been some talk of a donation 
of property, and they will probably get a strip of land down near the 
south end.” 

“ Yes, there’s where they’re thinking of going, because there was 
*a man came to me to-night on my way down here and asked me what 
I’d take for that old garden patch of ours. I told him I did’nt know 
what it was worth.” 

“ I’ll tell you, Dick, it’s worth all you can get. If they want that 
piece of ground you can get a good price for it. How much is there 
of it.” 

“ Why, there’s pretty near two acres.” 

“Well, there’s right where they’ve got to have the ground, even 
if they get the ground that’s donated to them.” 

“ What shall I ask them for it V ” 

“ It don't make much difference what you ask so that you ask 
them enough. Ask them seven thousand dollars to start on, but don’t 
take a cent less than forty-five hundred dollars.” 

“ Why mother couldn’t get five hundred dollars for it.” 

“ I know ; but there were no railroad shops here then. The shops 
are going to be a great thing for this town. Then we’re going to have 
the great reaper works. Hold your property at a good price.” 

The idea of forty-five hundred dollars for the old garden patch 
excited Dick quite a little. He felt anxious to sell, thought a good 
deal of getting that much money together, and really began to count 
on it. He kept himself posted in regard to the donation scheme, and 
one day, just before it was consummated, a gentleman came up to 
him on his way to dinner and asked him about the piece of ground 
again. He said : 

“If you don’t ask too much for that piece of ground, why we’ll 
take that piece down there near you. We kind of want yours to make 
it out.” Dick was very nervous. He trembled a good deal, and the 
negotiator felt that he had an easy task on his hands. 

“ Oh, I’ll not stand in your way,” said Dick ; “ I’ll not be unrea- 
sonable.” 

“ Will you take a thousand dollars for it V ” was asked. 


48 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


“ Well, I don’t know. That’s more than was ever offered for it 
before, and I guess it’s more than it is worth for anything else.” 

The local paper which came out the next week contained an ac- 
count of the completion of the negotiations for the erection of the 
shops. They had a rough kind of a map which showed how it was all 
to be, and Dick noticed that the entrance of the road was through his 
garden patch. The paper said that this piece of ground had been 
purchased. 

The reaper works had their ground between the railroad shops 
and the main line. After looking it all over on the paper, Dick took 
the next occasion to walk down the railroad and take another look at 
the old garden patch. The reaper company had commenced with a 
rush ; they had the ground all plowed up for the foundations to their 
buildings. Immediately on the other side of Dick’s property was 
quite a rise of ground — quite a little knob. 

“Maybe I’m mistaken,” said Dick to himself; “but I think 
they’ve got to have this piece of ground in order to get through to the 
place for the shops.” 

It was another month before Dick heard anything from the rail- 
road company. The walls of the reaper works shops were pretty well 
up and the foundation of the railroad shops were above ground. There 
were stakes set through Dick’s property to the railroad yards about 
the shops. About this time there was a call at his boarding-house 
from the railroad company’s solicitor, the same one who had met him 
before. 

“ Well, young man,” said he patronizingly, “ I have come down to 
close up that matter about that piece of property. I see that every- 
thing’s all right, that’s it’s in your name, and I’ve had a deed made 
out for you to sign here, and it’ll be acknowledged, and then here’s 
the company’s check for the money.” 

“ Well, we haven’t agreed on the price, have we.” 

“Oh, yes, we have. You said you would take a thousand dollars 
for it, and I said we’d take it. That’s all right.” 

“Oh, no, I didn’t say that. I said that a thousand dollars was 
more than had ever been offered for it before.” 

“ Oh, young man, but you mustn’t go back on your bargain. I 
reported to the company that you’d take a thousand dollars for it, and 
they wanted me to have it made out in writing, but I told them that 
you were an honest young man and it’d be all right.” 

“ I expect that you told them that I was a little green, at the same 
time, didn’t you ? ” 

“ No, I told them that you were all right, and that you’d do just 
what you agreed to do.” 

“ You’re all right about that. I did not agree to take a thousand 
dollars for the property, and I will not do it.” 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


49 


“Oh, well, it doesn’t make any difference. We don’t need the 
property. We can go in just this side of you, and if we want to we 
can condemn your property.” 

“All right,” said Dick. 

“ But look here, young man, what will you take for that piece of 
ground ? Be square about it ! ” 

“ I’ll have to talk to some of my friends about it and see. I don’t 
know what to say about so important a matter.” 

There was a good deal of parleying, but Dick was not moved. He 
went to Mr. Webb, who had been the administrator of the property, 
and they looked the situation over together, Mr. Webb thinking with 
Dick that the company had to have the ground. 

“ But I’ll tell you, Bichard,” said Webb ( who said Bichard when 
he was in a serious mood), “that business about condemning the 
property is what bothers me. I’ll tell you what we’d better do, we’d 
better go and see John Eliot. You know he helped us lots about the 
administration business.” 

And so they did. The whole thing was explained to him, and he 
told them that they couldn’t condemn the ground excepting for a 
certain distance on each side of the track, and then only for the 
main line. 

“If there’s no other way of getting into the shop grounds, except- 
ing by going through your property, you can make a nice little sum of 
money out of it, quite a little fortune fora young man.” 

They all got into the Judge’s buggy and went down to see the 
grounds. 

“I had some experience in railroading when I was a young man. 
I helped to run the line for the first railroad that was built in this 
section of the state.” 

After they had looked it all over, the Judge said: “If anyone 
comes to you, Bichard, you send him to me. You tell him that I 
represent you in this matter. Within a day or so I can tell to a cent 
just how much you can get out of them. The only way that they can 
get through, except by going on your ground, is by cutting through 
that nob, and the price of your ground will be fixed by just what it 
would cost to cut that nob. It won’t cost much to have it measured 
up and I’ll do it right away. There is a little ledge of rocks sticking 
out there, that’ll have to be considered too. They’ll have to cut 
through that.” 

The result of the whole thing was this, that the railroad company 
soon understood that the matter was entirely in Judge Eliot’s hands. 
He estimated that it would cost thirteen thousand dollars to make the 
cut, and said he : 

“ You can make just three thousand dollars by buying this young 
man’s property.” 


50 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


It was about a month before the deal was closed, but it was closed, 
and Dick Herrick sold the garden patch for ten thousand dollars. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Early in the autumn Lucy Eliot came home. She was the 
daughter of 0 udge Eliot— not the only daughter, for there were three 
children younger than she, but the difference in age between her and 
the younger ones was so great that as far as companionship went she 
was alone. 

As Mrs. Moore had said, she was a beautiful girl and an intelligent 
one as well. She was forceful, one who had a reason for what she did, 
and always carried through a plan which she might form. She had 

been away from M for several years at school, had only been home 

at rare intervals, and had lost much of her interest in the people and 
surroundings there. In fact, she felt her self almost a stranger. 
Some two or three weeks after her arrival, she was driving along the 
main street in the village with Mrs. Moore. This lady had made a 
great favorite of Lucy since her return, and Lucy had seen no reason 
for not reciprocating Mrs. Moore’s attentions. They were together a 
great deal. On the morning in question they were driving slowly 
along the street, when Lucy looked up and saw Lizzie Gardner walk- 
ing toward them. 

“ Why,” said she, “ there’s a girl who looks exactly like one who 
used to go to our school. I believe it’s the same girl.” 

“ Which one do you mean, Lucy? ” 

“ That girl in the grey dress.” 

“ Why that’s—” 

“ Oh, please stop, Mrs. Moore. I want to get out! ” 

Lucy sprang out of the buggy, calling : “ Lizzie, Lizzie, how did 
you ever get here ? ” 

Lizzie looked up surprised as Lucy caught her and kissed her 
there on the street. 

“ Lucy Eliot, how did you come here? ” 

u Oh, this is where I live. But how could you be here and I never 
find it out? ” 

“ I live here with my aunt. I’ve been here ever since I left 
school.” 

“You dear girl, to think that I never knew it. Why I might have 
sent mamma word. I am so glad to see you ! ” 

The two girls looked at each other as if they had each found a 
treasure; and, indeed they felt that they had. Lizzie had found one 
who had always been kind to her at school, and one who would break 
the monotony of her life now, and Lucy felt that here was one from 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


51 


what was to her, home — the school to which she had been accustomed 
so long. 

“ I can’t stay now, for Mrs. Moore is waiting for me. But you 
will come to see me, won’t you, and then we will have such a long 
t alk ? No ; tell me where you live, and I will come to you right away. ” 

Lizzie told her where she lived, and turned and spoke to Mrs. 
Moore. Then the two girls said good-bye, amid many promises from 
Lucy to see her that very day. 

Mrs. Moore was in a state of speechless surprise. How could it 
be that Lucy should know so well the girl whom she had neglected 
and despised ? Lucy did not see her surprise ; 'she was too full of the 
pleasure of the meeting. 

“Isn’t it strange that she should be 'here? We all wondered 
where she was — she was such a favorite.” 

“ Hid she really go to your school, Lucy ? ” 

“ Why, yes, of course she did, and there wasn’t a girl who didn’t 
love her. When her father died she said that she was going out west to 
an aunt of her’s, and I never thought of asking her where she was 
going. And she has been here all the time.” 

Mrs. Moore wanted to know several things, but wisely refrained 
from asking. Then she was puzzled as to what the outcome of all this 
would be. Here was the girl she was so anxious to keep away from 
George going to be thrown constantly into the company of the one she 
wanted to keep near him. How could she work it ? 

Lucy did not go to see Lizzie that day, nor the next one. Her 
mother needed her and she could not find the time. Lizzie was some- 
what disturbed at her not coming. The third day, in the middle of 
the forenoon, Lucy appeared at the door of the Webb house, and was 
ushered into the plain, stiff front room of which Mrs. Webb was so 
proud. 

The two girls began to talk both at once, and right in the midst of 
it Lucy said : 

“I came to take you home with me. You are going to stay with 
me a whole week.” 

Lizzie protested. She couldn’t leave her aunt. 

w Yes you can. She has had you all these months, and now it’s 
my turn. I want some one who is familiar to me. Now where is that 
insatiable aunt ? I want to see her.” 

When the aunt came Lucy talked to her a few minutes, telling her 
how they had missed Lizzie when she left school, and how glad she 
was to find her in M . Then she said : 

“I’ve come to ask a favor of you, Mrs. Webb. Are you a good 
person to come to for that purpose ? ” 

“ I guess about the only way to find out is to try.” 


52 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


“ Well, I want Lizzie to come with me and stay a week, but she 
says she can’t leave you.” 

Lucy did not have much trouble in persuading Mrs. Webb, and 
Lizzie was really glad to go, so it was arranged that Lucy should come 
for her that afternoon. 

Lizzie had an extremely pleasant visit with Lucy. Her home was 
one of luxury and refinement, and the family, especially Judge Eliot, 
were all very kind to Lizzie. With the Judge she soon became a 
prime favorite. He was a quiet man, little given to conversation, but 
the family found that he had more to say to Lizzie than they had ever 
known him to say to any of the young people who frequented the 
house. 

Lizzie enjoyed the atmosphere of luxury, and she enjoyed being 
with Lucy and talking about things which mutually interested them. 

While with Lucy she met George Moore several times. Since he 
had asked her to marry him she had met him frequently, and the 
feeling of embarrassment in his presence had gradually worn away. 
He had met her exactly as he had before, and by his kindness and 
consideration had won her regard as he could not have done in any 
other way. She had come to think from his manner that he had 
forgotten all about the affair. 

Lucy and George had known each other when younger, and their 
acquaintance was speedily renewed to their mutual pleasure. Lucy 
was so bright and vivacious, so open and pleasant in all her ways, that 
it was a pleasure to any young man to be in her society. Ho one had 
any idea of George’s preference for Lizzie. He never troubled her by 
showing it, but was always watchful for her comfort. 

After Lizzie went back home she„was often with Lucy. The tw 0 
girls found that they suited each other even better out of school than 
when there. Lucy soon introduced, her friend into the pleasures of 

M society, and Lizzie found her life much brighter than before. 

She soon became a favorite with all the young people of the village, 
but was especially liked by the older ones. There was a quiet beauty 
about the girl which was extremely attractive, and she never antagon- 
ized the younger people by any thought of rivalry. 

With Lucy it was different. She was soon the acknowledged 
leader among the young people, but such a position brought with it 
many envious feelings on the part of the other young people who 
surrounded her. 

After Lucy’s return George Moore was' seen more in evening 
companies than he had been before. This was attributed to the 
charms of Lucy’s society, and as he was more with the two girls than 
with any others, it was very natural to think so. In fact, Lucy herself, 
was not averse to the thought, and Lizzie often wondered at the truth! 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


53 


His manner indicated no change during the winter from what it had 
been at any time since he had known her. 

Early in the spring Lucy Eliot made a discovery. She found that 
she was in love with George Moore, and she acknowledged that it was 
no reawakening of the girlish interest she had had in him previous to 
her leaving home for school, but was the love of her maturer woman- 
hood. She thought long and earnestly on the subject, although she 
never tried to dissuade herself from the notion that this was a per- 
manent love ; she knew her own nature better than that ; she knew 
that it was life or death to her, and that nothing could change her 
feelings for George. But what she did think about was as to his 
feeling for her, and the more thought she gave the subject the farther 
she was from a conclusion. George’s attentions were pretty equally 
divided between the two girls, and Lucy did not know 7 what to think. 
But Lizzie began to have some idea as to Lucy’s feelings. The girl 
was too restless and too watchful not to betray herself in some degree 
to her friend. 

One spring evening there was a gathering of young people at 
Judge Eliot’s house, and George and Lizzie were among the number 
present. During the evening George and Lizzie were walking on the 
piazza which was just outside the parlor windows. They had been 
talking of indifferent subjects and of the fact that it was about a year 

since Lizzie first came to M . They stopped by one of the windows 

where there was no one standing. George was facing the room, while 
Lizzie had her back nearly turned to those who were in the house. 
George was growing impatient of his waiting, and could think of no 
better time than the present to put an end to it. He had but little 
hope as to Lizzie’s answer to this, his second suit, but resolved to risk 
it at this time. He could not see that he was gaining anything by 
waiting. 

u Lizzie are you not ready to answer the question I asked you so 
long ago ? I have been waiting a long time.” 

Lizzie was not so frightened as she had been before. She had 
more to give her courage, and she was not so surprised as then ; still 
she said nothing. 

“ Lizzie, can’t you tell me that you love me just a little now, that 
you will be my wife some day ? I can wait a long time— any time you 
wish, even if it is years.” His tone was very tender, his look very 
expectant. He had hardly the appearance of the self-contained, quiet 
young man whom his friends were accustomed to see. 

Lizzie looked up at him for the first time. She was very quiet, 
very tender, very like her own self. The past months had been 
developing some of the womanhood in her. Previously she had been 
nothing but a young girl; now she was slowly becoming a woman. 


54 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


She was where any sudden experience might develop that womanhood 
rapidly without which she would never know when she left her 
girlhood. She said : 

“ No, Mr. Moore, it cannot be.” 

“But why, Lizzie? You told me last fall that you didn’t love 
anyone else, and you can surely say the same now.” 

“ Yes.” 

“Then why can I not wait still longer? Can’t you give me a 
little hope ? ” 

“No, Mr. Moore, 1 don’t think time would make any difference- 
It is something that can never be.” 

“ But Lizzie, may I not wait ? ” 

“ I can’t think that it would do any good.” 

The look of expectation had gone out of George Moore’s face. He 
offered Lizzie his arm, which she silently took and they walked up 
and down the piazza a few times without speaking and went into the 
house. Lizzie looked for Lucy, but could not find her for some 
minutes. Lucy had gone out of the parlors, out into the grass, beyond 
the lights, where she could be alone a few moments. She had seen 
George as he spoke to Lizzie, with the expectation in his face, and 
had watched while Lizzie answered him, and had seen the disappoint- 
ment and pain there. Lizzie’s face she could not see. 

She could not know what they were saying, but the look in 
George’s face could only mean one thing, and the surprise, the shock 
of the partial revelation was more than the girl could bear, so she 
went out. When she returned, her face showed nothing; she had 
learned so soon that bitter lesson of self-control which an unreturned 
love will soonest teach. No one but Lizzie had missed her, and Lizzie 
said nothing. 

After this Lucy watched with every sense sharpened, but learned 
nothing. George was less with the young people than he had been at 
any time since her return, but this could be accounted for by the 
demand made on his time by his business, and Lizzie gave the girl no 
clue by word or deed. Had Lizzie returned George’s love Lucy would 
have gone her way and hid her secret, but the uncertainty only made 
it harder to bear. She determined that win his Jove she would if it 
were possible, and watched and waited with this in view. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

A month or two previous to the events narrated in the foregoing 
chapter, Mr. Cooke, the New York commission merchant, was in the 

West, and took occasion to visit M at that time. He was there 

two days. On the afternoon of the second day he was standing in the 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


55 


mill talking to Mr. Webb about the mill and the flour it was making, 
when Lizzie came in bringing her uncle a message from his wife. 
Webb introduced Mr. Cooke to Lizzie, who said a few pleasant words 
delivered her aunt’s message and went out. As she left the mill Mr. 
Cooke said : 

“It’s strange how one person will resemble another who is no re- 
lation to him. There is your niece who looks strikingly like some one 
I know, but I can't think who. You said her name was Gardner. Is 
she your niece ? ” 

“ No. Her father was my wife’s brother. His name was Gardner.” 

They changed the subject and talked flour for awhile, when Mr. 
Cooke referred to Lizzie again. 

“ It’s strange how that face haunts me. Did her father live 
here V ” 


“ No, his home was in Lockport, New York.” 

“ Lockport ! Gardner ! Why, he wasn’t John Gardner who trav- 
eled for R & Co., of New York City ? ” 

“Yes. I guess he was the same man.” 

“ Why, I knew him well. Many an hour have w T e traveled to- 
gether. That accounts for it. But she doesn’t look like her father, 
either.” 

“No, she resembles her mother very much.” 

“Her mother was Miss Southwick, of Brooklyn, wasn’t she? 
Her father disliked her marriage and disowned her, didn’t he ? ” 

“Yes, I believe something of the kind did happen, but I never 
knew much about it. John never said much and I didn’t ask him.” 

“ Well, I don’t know much about it, but I know the family — that 
is, I know her brother, and did know her father before he died. 
Strange old man, he. Yes, I see her uncle,” referring to Lizzie now, 
“ about every time I am home. I will have to tell him what a pretty 
niece he has out here.” 

Webb told his 'wife and Lizzie of the occurrence, and they talked 
it over a little and forgot it. That is, the older people did, but Lizzie 
loved her mother’s memory too much to forget anything or anybody 
who had any connection with her. She knew very little about her 
mother’s family and about the trouble which had occurred at the time 
of her marriage. She knew that she had belonged to a wealthy, proud 
family of Brooklyn, and that they had strongly disapproved of her 
marriage, chiefly on account of the lack of wealth and position of Mr. 
Gardner. 

About six weeks after Mr. Cooke’s visit there came the following 

letter to Lizzie : _ __ 

Brooklyn, N. Y., June 19th, 18—. 

My Dear Niece: , , ' 

We have just learned of your whereabouts, and write to-day of- 


56 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


fering you a home with us. While it was not altogether my fault that 
your mother was treated as she was by her family, it has been the 
fault of her brother and sister that we have not sought out her daugh- 
ter and given her what should have been the mother’s. I write now 
asking you to forget the past neglect and come to us and be one of us 
as my own children are. My wife joins me in this request, which I 
assure you is heartfelt. I hope to hear from you immediately. 

Your affectionate uncle, Edward Southwick. 

The cause of this letter was that Mr. Cooke had met Mr. South- 
wick one day, and glad of an excuse to speak with one of his position, 
had told how pretty and engaging his niece was, not for a moment 
imagining that Mr. Southwick d id not know where this niece was. 
But this gentleman questioned Mr. Cooke adroitly until he found out 
all he wanted to know of Lizzie’s whereabouts, and the result was 
the letter given. 

The next mail brought another letter to Lizzie. This one was 
from her aunt, her mother’s only sister, who had never married, and 
was keeping house alone not far from her brother. Miss Southwick 
asked Lizzie to come and stay with her, pleading that she was alone in 
the world and needed some one to cheer her old age. She urged that 
no one had so good a right to Lizzie as her mother’s only sister. Liz- 
zie said nothing about these letters. She thought the matter over for 
two or three days and then wrote declining to go to Brooklyn, at least 
for the present, saying that Mr. and Mrs. Webb needed her ; that they 
had been so kind to her in her trouble that she could not leave them ; 
that they had no children of their own, and that her duty was with 
them. After these letters had been sent Lizzie felt almost sorry that 
she had not taken more time for consideration. She really wanted to 
go to New York for a time, and particularly wanted to see her 
mother’s people. 

In the course of a week or two Lizzie received another letter from 
her aunt, Miss Hannah Southwick. In this letter was a strong plea 
for at least a visit from the girl. Her aunt wrote : “If you cannot 
come to me permanently, at least come for a few weeks this summer. 
I am going with my brother’s family to the beach, and I want you to 
go with me. I want to see my sister’s daughter. I know that we 
have no claim on you— that was forfeited long ago by our neglect— but 
I ask as a favor that you come to me for a short time.” 

Lizzie thought the matter over for a few days, and then spoke to 
Mr. and Mrs. Webb about it. They advised her to go, and talked so 
much about it that she finally wrote her acceptance of the invitation. 
Mr. Webb said to his wife one day, as they were talking the matter 
over : 

“ I can’t see how we are to get along without the little girl. She 
seems to be a part of ourselves, but I suppose it’s better she should 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


57 


go ; she needs the change and can’t afford to miss this chance of 
seeing the world. I wouldn’t have her stay w r ith us, but I can’t see 
how we are to get along without her.” 

This was the feeling of all of Lizzie’s friends, but the one who 
felt it as strongly as any was Dick Herrick. He had been in the habit 
of spending Sunday evening at Webb’s house, as much as anything 
for the reason that Webb liked to talk to the young man about the mill 
and milling methods. These talks had meant much to Dick ; they had 
given him a knowledge of his business which he could get in no other 
way ; but more than this he had had an insight into gentler ways and 
more delicate methods of thought than had ever come to him before. 
Lizzie had been kind to him, as she was to everybody, and her gentle 
dainty ways had been a revelation to the young man. 

“ I don’t see how we are to get along without you, Miss Gardner,” 
said Dick when he heard of the projected visit. 

u It’s kind of you to think and say that, it makes me very happy 
to think that my friends will miss me while I am away.” 

“ It will be long enough for us to be glad to see you when you get 
back.” 

In a couple of weeks Lizzie was ready to go East, and went in 
company with a friend of Mr. Southwick’s who was traveling from 
Chicago to New York. Her relatives gave her a hearty welcome, 
especially her aunt, who was a staid maiden lady, somewhat lonesome 
in her large house and altogether ready to welcome her niece, even 
had she been less attractive than was Lizzie. 

“You are just like your mother, child. It’s not like having a 
stranger around. It makes me think that I am a girl again, and that 
Mary and I were happy together as we used to be.” 

When Miss Southwick came to look in Lizzie’s wardrobe and 
make arrangements for their departure for the seaside, she found that 
Lizzie was in no wise dependent upon her for the money to make the 
needed additions. Mr. Webb had seen to that without saying any- 
thing even to his wife, and Lizzie had accepted the gift in the same 
spirit which it was rendered. It made her feel more independent 
than she could have done in any other way. 

CHAPTER XV. 

After Dick got his money, the next thing was what to do with it. 
It concerned him a little and his acquaintances a good deal more ; 
many of them could tell him just exactly what to do with it. One 
man said that if he could handle it he could double it in a year, but as 
this person had never made a dollar of his own, his advice was not 
heeded. Judge Eliot, who had been Dick’s counsel in the matter, 
asked him what he would do with it, what his ideas were. 


.58 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


“ Well, I don’t know,” said Dick, u I suppose it ought to be put 
some place where it would be safe and earn a little something, but I 
don’t know what to do with it.” 

u Well, that’s a very good thing. People who always know exactly 
what to do with their money, who always have so many uses for it, 
soon get rid of it. It’s generally harder to take care of money than 
it is to get it.” 

u If you know of some good thing to do with it, something that’s 
all right and safe, I would like to hear your advice.” 

“ There are a good many things you might do with it, and have 
it perfectly safe. You might loan it on mortgage, but then you might 
have to foreclose sometime, and wait a long time, and spend a good 
deal to get your money out of the property. Our county, you know, 
has just been issuing some bonds which bear seven per cent, interest, 
and I think of nothing better to do, nothing safer, than to buy these 
bonds. Then, if you want to turn them into money it can be very 
readily done.” 

In a day or two after this, Dick went to Judge Eliot and told him 
he believed that he would do as he advised in regard to the matter ; 
that there were so many people after the money that he wanted to 
dispose of it. And it was done in this way. 

“ Well, I suppose you will quit packing flour now,” said one of his 
acquaintances who was at work in a neighboring factory. “ I suppose 
you’ll take your money and have a good time now, won’t you Dick ? ” 

“ Why no, I won’t quit- packing flour until I can find something 
better to do about the mill.” 

“ Why, you don’t say you are going to work in the mill after you’ve 
got that money, do you ? Why don’t you travel around and have a 
good time ? Go to Chicago and around and see the world.” 

“ I don’t think my money would last very long if I did anything 
of that kind. I started out to learn to be a miller, and there’s no 
reason why I shouldn’t do it. 

Dick only lost two or three days during the time he was getting 
his business matters straightened. He worked in the mill as usual, and 
continued so to do in the same steady way as before. Every one won- 
dered that they had never noticed what a good fellow Dick was. They 
always said he was a steady kind of a chap, but didn’t suppose he was 
so regular and had such good judgment and was altogether so worthy 
a young man. The possession of money in this way will have its effect 
upon anyone. There is no one who will be proof against it. It may 
make a man mean and close, or it may make him liberal, extravagant 
and wasteful. Then, again, there are those to whom it merely adds 
strength of purpose, and impresses them with the necessity for gen- 
eral good behaviour and industry. This was the case with Dick. It 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


59 


emphasized his good qualities — he had none that were distinctly bad. 
He felt that with this change in his life there was an opportunity for 
doing more and doing better during his earlier years than he could 
have expected, and he did not look for this advancement or these 
changes in his life outside the regular channel. Without formulating 
the thought in his mind he saw that it was entirely possible to bring 
out the best that there is in one through the training and work of a 
mill. 

Dick had always been a reader of the books that his father had 
left him, and wdthout being an enthusiast about them was a steady 
reader. He read a little all the time, and in the course of a year went 
through a number of good books. He was not so formal or stiff as to 
have a course of reading, as many other good people have done, but 
he read what suited him out of the books his father had left; him, and 
as they were of the better class his reading could not but be good. 

His advance in a business way had made him a number of very 
good friends, particularly in the case of Judge Eliot, who was glad to 
talk to him, glad to have him come to see him in the evening, it being 
the habit of many of the men in this small town to go to their offices 
a little while each evening with no clearly defined purpose excepting 
to go. Thus he had a very good opportunity of studying books and 
people at the same time — a most excellent combination. 

One day Adam and George were standing in the mill door, when 
one of Adam’s friends passed along and posed himself for a little 
gossip. 

“ Well, Adam,” he said, “ I understand that the flour is made by 
some kind of a new way — some kind of a new machine, is it, Adam? ” 

“ No, it’s what they call the new process. It’s about the same old 
machines, but they call it the new process.” 

u It was some of that flour that I got here about a month ago, 
wasn’t it.” 

tk Yes, I guess it was.” 

“ Well, I’ll tell you, it's pretty nice flour, but do you know I don’t 
believe it has that nice, sweet taste the old flour used to have. The 
way you make it now it’s white enough, but I don’t believe it tastes 
as good. What do you think about it ? ” 

“ Well, I guess most everybody knows what I think,” said Adam ; 
“ I think the old way’s good enough. I don’t think there is any advan- 
tage in milling flour to death — chasing it all over the mill to get it 
into the packer.” 

“ I guess you’re right, Adam.” 

About this time George Moore turned around and went into the 
office. It was now about the middle of October. The mill was still 
running night and day. They had not the least trouble in selling all the 


60 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


flour they could make at good paying prices. The change in the mill 
had been greatly to their advantage ; it had made money very rapidly. 
George Moore looked out of the door and saw Adam’s friend take his 
departure. He went to the office door and called to Adam to come in. 

“ Mr. Strong,” he said, “you still appear to be dissatisfied with the 
working of this mill. Your mind still clings to the idea that there is 
nothing so good as the old way. You take no interest in the business 
and are doing nothing for it. Now may be you would like to buy me 
out and run the mill your own way, or possibly you would like to sell 
out and buy a mill after your mind.” 

“ I’ve been thinking something about that myself. I don’t want 
to buy, and I couldn’t buy if I did.” 

“ Yes you could. You’re in a better fix financially than you have 
been for a long time, Adam, and the property here is making money, 
and if you want to buy me out you’ll have no trouble making the 
arrangements.” 

“ I don’t want to buy, but I’ll sell.” 

“For how much.” 

Adam named his price. It was lower than George expected. He 
had estimated the value upon the earning capacity of the mill, in 
which Adam had little confidence, while Adam had estimated it 
according to what he believed it would cost to build and equip the 
mill. 

“ Mr. Strong, I will accept your offer, if we can arrange as to 
terms of payment.” 

“ I want cash.” 

“ I don’t know whether I can give you cash or not, but I will let 
you know in the morning.” 

Adam got up and went to the dam. Morning came, and with it 
the completed arrangements to buy the property. George had ar- 
ranged with his father to get the money. The old gentleman scratched 
his head a little at first, but finally said he guessed that he could raise 
it. Adam took the money and his family and moved back to Pennsyl- 
vania, to his old home, and there bought a mill which he soon arranged 
to suit himself. He even had an old dam that he could go and watch. 

CHAPTER XYI. 

As far as the running of the mill was concerned, Adam’s absence 
meant very little. There had been a time when he interested himself 
in everything that had to do with the mill, but after its change to the 
new process, his interest, as we know, departed ; he cared nothing for 
it. Even the money that it made did not appear to be good money in 
his eyes. A great many people regretted Adam’s going. He had a 
sturdy honest way that made him popular with every one, for that 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


quality. George Moore appreciated all the good that was in him, and 
it was really a sad thing to see the old man pack up and leave the mill 
that he had been with so long. How it affected him as a matter of 
sentiment no one could know. 

The mill still continued to run profitably. The business, just before 
harvest, as is usually the case, was a little dull, but after that, until 
the middle of November, the mill could have sold a great deal more 
flour than it made. A period of somewhat smaller profits and fewer 
sales then followed. 

One day one of the men about the mill remarked that “ it was a 
year since Adam left.” 

u So it is,” another answered ; “ doesn’t seem that long, does it ? ” 

When the mill runs all the time the year soon passes around. It 
is the long delays, the waiting for the markets to improve, that makes 
the long weeks and months. At this time we find that Dick had left 
the packers. For some months he had been interesting himself in 
selling flour and buying wheat around through the neighboring towns. 
George had come to the conclusion that it would be well to have a 
good local trade to fall back upon in the winter. Dick took to this 
sort of thing very kindly. He had a quiet, frank way with him that 
made friends. There were none of those brilliant qualities which at- 
tracted people to him in a promiscuous and hurried manner. He was 
the same every day in the year to every one, and his friendships were 
never disturbed. His contact with people, coupled with a more an 
ordinary desire to read, had made him a very interesting person to 
talk with. There w^as none of the upstart in him. His conversation 
was simply quiet and reasonable. He had nothing to force upon peo- 
ple, but was always ready to make a quiet, logical reply to whatever 
might be said to him. People who bought flour from him became his 
friends and were not readily led away. His time was not all occupied 
outside of the mill in this way, and when in it he gave as much of it 
as possible in familarizing himself with the practical duties of a mil- 
ler ; the principles he had in his head. He had been dressing stone at 
odd times for over a year and a half, and his practice was beginning 
to show good results. His good judgment and thoughtful habits 
made the other milling matters more ready of comprehension and 
practical developement in him than would have been possible for one 
working as a listless apprentice. 

One day the elder Mr. Moore was seen coming towards the mill. 
“ The old man’s beginning to show his years, isn,t he Webb ? ” 

“ Well I hadn’t thought of it, but come to look at him I believe he 
is Why, how do you do, Mr. Moore ? ” said Webb. 

“ Oh, I’m feeling tolerable well, just tolerable. Is my son about ?’ 

“ I think he’s out in the warehouse. I’ll go and find him foryou.’” 


62 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


Mr. Moore sat down on a barrel by the door waiting for his son. 
He looked tired; he did not have that bright, vivacious look, that 
genial, hearty manner which, till within a short time, had appeared to 
increase with his years. As he sat down he sighed as though he were 
tired, put his hand to his face and rubbed his eyes, and then took off 
his hat and let his arm lie listlessly at his side as he looked with a 
vacant stare out of the door. He had not been in the mill before for 
six months. There was a time when he visited it quite frequently, 
as he did so it had been his custom to look about him in an interested 
way, showing very clearly that he was very much interested in his 
son’s prosperity. Now there was nothing of this in him. He did not 
see or hear the mill. 

“ Were you looking for me father ? ” said George. 

“ Why, yes ; I want to speak to you, George. Let’s go into the 
office.” 

George had noticed for some time that his father was not looking 
well, but as it was a tender point with the old gentleman, he had said 
nothing to him about it. 

“ Well, what is it, father ? ” said George, as he took a seat in the 
office. 

The elder Mr. Moore got up and closed the door. “ George, I want 
your note for ten thousand dollars, and I want you to execute a 
mortgage on this mill as collateral.” 

“ Why, what’s the matter ? What’s that for ? ” 

“ Well, I’ll tell you what’s the matter. I’m in a tight place, and 
I’ve got to raise some money.” 

“ Is ten thousand dollars all you want ? ” 

“No, but its all I can expect to get from you.” 

“ Well, if you want more than ten thousand dollars, maybe my ten 
thousand won’t do you any good. But what’s the matter ? How did 
you get into this awful tight place ? Why didn’t you say something 
about it before ? ” 

“ Well, I’ll tell you what's the matter George. You know I took 
some stock in the reaper works down here, and I loaned them some 
money, and I’ve had to loan them quite a little lump. They were 
doing all right, but then, you know, the other day we were sued on 
our patents. The court granted an injunction against our making 
any more reapers, and I tell you our attorney don’t give us much 
comfort. He talks about compromising, and the other fellows don’t 
want to compromise unless we give them everything we’ve got, and 
our machines are out and nobody will buy from us, and nobody will, 
pay us any money for fear they’ll be sued on royalties and won’t have 
any of our money to pay with. I tell you it’s a bad case. Then I’ve 
advanced a good deal of money to these railroad contractors, and the 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


63 


stock they put up is getting a little worse every day, and the con- 
tractors themselves are beginning to look a little shaky.” 

George was thunderstruck. 

“ I tell you, George, I don^b like the way people are looking around 
the bank. We’ve paid more checks this afternoon than have passed 
over the counter for a long time.” 

“ What would you do with my note if you had it ? ” 

“ Why, I’d send it to Chicago to-night and get it discounted, and 
get some money here as early as I could in the morning.” 

“ Why, you’re not that bad off, are you father ? ” 

“ Well, my son, I’m sorry to say that I am.” 

“ Then, maybe, I’d better not let you have that note ? ” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Why, I don’t think ten thousand dollars is going to do you any 
good. I think it best for both of us that I should keep this mill out 
of the wreck if there’s going to be one.” 

“ George, I know what I’m doing. Do you mean to say that you 
refuse me the money after my helping you as I have ? ” 

“ I do not refuse to help you, father. I mean to help you, but if I 
throw this mill in the wreck I’m in no position to do anything for you. 
But tell me, do you think ten thousand dollars will save you ? ” 

Mr. Moore stopped to think a while. 

“ No, I do not believe it will. I don’t know why I asked for it.” 

“Do you mean to say that you have had a run on the bank 
to-day ? ” 

“No, hardly that; but a good many people have quietly come in 
and taken out about all they had with us, and the aggregate has been 
a good deal more than I wish it was.” 

“Maybe if you open the bank as usual in the morning and put on 
a bold front the thing will quiet down.” 

“ Well, that’s what I’m going to do, anyhow. I’m going to open 
the bank and let them clean it out if they want to.” 

Unfortunately the bank trouble was talked about around the 
street that night, though in a very quiet way, and principally among 
the merchants, lawyers and the doctors. Most of them questioned as 
to whether the bank would open in the morning. George stayed with 
his father during the evening, and went through many of the details 
which led to his trouble. Mr. Moore was anxious to go down to the 
bank and look over the books, as he had done many times before in 
the evening, but George opposed the idea. He said in the present 
crisis that it might make trouble. His father was nervous and sick, 
and didn’t know exactly what he did want to do. The bank opened 
at eight o’clock the next morning. There was no crowd around the 
door as Mr. Moore had partially anticipated there would be, but there 


64 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


might have been noticed a number of people on the various street 
comers who were in conversation, and who occasionally cast their eyes 
towards the bank. 

“Well, there’s somebody at the door,” was said by some one in 
each of these little knots of people.” 

“ He’s going to paste a notice on the glass,” said one. 

“ No, he isn’t. There’s the sign , 4 Bank Open.’ ” 

As this happened, the people in the vicinity began to disperse. 
It would have appeared to the looker on that this was a hopeful sign, 
but the results showed what each had on his mind. Those who had 
money in the bank quietly went to their desks and wrote out a check 
and during the next hour or two several of them walked into the bank 
and drew out their balances, and then returned to their various places 
of business. Some of them said it was all nonsense, and the old man 
would come out all right, and they made bold to scrape all the money 
together which they could and make an early deposit. But there was 
too much talk. The condition of things was soon whispered around 
among the smaller depositors. They began to gather around the bank 
and draw out their money and stand out in the front and talk about it. 
The crowd grew in numbers until the sidewalk was blocked, and 
soon there was an immense crowd of men, women and children. 
The town marshal stood at the door to keep the people from crowding 
into the bank, and allowed only a few to enter at a time. These were 
paid. 

There were all kinds of rumors and all kinds of talk among those 
on the outside. It was said that the next train from Chicago would 
bring a hundred thousand dollars in currency. Others said that Judge 
Eliot would not let the bank go down ; that Mr. Moore had allowed this 
thing to show how strong the bank was. Judge Eliot was in the 
crowd talking to the people, trying to quiet them, telling them how it 
was that no bank could stand a run, but it was to no purpose. By noon 
the farmers from the surrounding country began to come in, and they 
drew out money in good round sums. It is a most dreadful spectacle, 
that of a run on a bank. It is enough to make the heart of a business 
man sink within him to see an excited multitude pulling the vitals 
right out of an institution of this kind that has for years held the 
treasure and the confidence of the pnblic. 

About one o’clock the following notice was pasted on the front 
door : 

To the Depositors of this Bank. 

Owing to an unnecessary and heavy run on this bank it is com- 
pelled to suspend payment. Enos Moore. 

Then the door was closed and locked, but the crowd grew larger 
instead of smaller. Those who had no money in the bank — never had 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


65 


in any bank — were the ones to protest most loudly. There was a gen- 
eral feeling of anger in the crowd. They discovered many points of 
weakness in Mr. Moore which they had never mentioned before. The 
excitement had been too much for the old gentleman. His carriage 
had to be sent for in order that he might be taken home. He was a 
sick man. 

Nearly everyone wanted to see the notice, and read it over and over 
again. 

The crowd did not entirely disappear until after dark, and for a 
day or two little knots of people continued to gather on the streets 
and talk about the suspension. 

There was a certain class of quiet business men, of course, who 
did not participate in anything of this kind, but those who were the 
loudest in their demonstrations during the time of the trouble were 
the ones who afterwards made boasts of their coolness. 

George Moore was in debt to the bank about four thousand dollars, 
besides his operating capital ; that is, if his business had 
been closed out, it would have been necessary to have gone four thou- 
sand dollars into the real estate to pay his debts. Being without cap- 
ital, and having this note against his property, he was not a little 
disturbed. It left him without money to buy wheat or to handle his 
flour. 


CHAPTEK XVII. 

Shortly after Lizzie had gone to her aunt’s, Mrs. Moore and Mrs. 
Eliot went East for the summer, and wished for Lucy to go with them, 

but Lucy had no wish to leave M , and declined. The older ladies 

pressed the matter strongly, urging her to give some reason for refus- 
ing so pleasant a prospect ; but Lucy had nothing to say, excepting 
that she would rather stay at home and care for her father and the 
younger children, and all her mother had to say did not change her 
mind, or her reason. The truth was she was too deeply interested in 
George Moore to care to leave home, and even had he not been there, 
she had no heart for gaieties in which he had no part. So the older 
ladies reluctantly went without her, and she, much to her father’s 
delight, stayed at home. 

Lucy was extremely restless, and found her only relief in some 
occupation which was either new or arduous enough to take all of her 
attention. She gave much time to housekeeping, and took such care 
of the younger members of the family as to cause them to remember 
that summer as one of the pleasantest in their lives. Her father 
stayed at home with her more than had been his wont, and they were 
both surprised to find how much they had in common. There had 
always been the usual love which exists between father and daughter, 


66 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


but this summer developed an increased love, and a companionship 
such as rarely exists between people bearing the relation which existed 
between these two. 

One evening Judge Eliot brought Dick Herrick home to tea with 
him and kept him through the evening. The judge had lost none of 
his admiration for Dick ; in fact, the course of the young man, since 
his good fortune, had been such as to win the good will of all who 
knew him. The evening in question, Dick had gone to the judge’s of- 
fice on some business just before the latter was ready to go home, and 
the talk had continued down the stairs and to the door of the carriage, 
which was waiting for the older gentleman. 

“Jump in, Richard, and go up and take tea with us,” said the 
judge, as he reached the carriage ; “ my wife isn’t at home, but my 
daughter is, and we will try and make it pleasant for you.” 

Dick hesitated a moment, and then quietly accepted the invita- 
tion. He had had many invitations to partake in the festivities of 
the village society, but had rarely accepted. There were many who 
were willing to see much in Dick Herrick since his increase of fortune 
who would not have seen it before. From such Dick instinctively 
turned away ; but this invitation from Judge Eliot was a different 
thing, and he recognized it as such. 

When Dick had gone home, the judge said to his daughter : “That 
is a young man of much promise, Lucy, and I shall be much surprised 
if he does not make his mark in the world. I am more than pleased 
with his course, and am surprised at the breadth of his thought. 
For one who has had so few apparent advantages, he is wonderfully 
well informed. We must keep an eye on him and have him here 
oftener.” 

And so it happened that when Dick was in town he was frequently 
at the Eliot’s, and finally, before the summer was over, had taken & 
position among the young people of the village which he filled with 
ease. 

During the early part of the summer Lucy saw comparatively lit- 
tle of George Moore. After Adam’s departure he felt more than ever 
the responsibilities of his business, but more than that the disappoint- 
ment in regard to Lizzie had cut him deeply, and he did not recover 
easily. He tried to reason himself into the belief that he still had an 
opportunity to win her, but in his inmost consciousness he knew her 

last word had been final. Yet, had Lizzie been in M he would 

have still tried to gain her affections, but as she was away the case 
seemed more hopeless than it otherwise would. 

As the summer advanced he went to call on Lucy occasionally, 
and at such times the girl was at her brightest. She was a brilliant 
conversationalist, and in every respect a very fascinating girl at any 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


67 


time, but the presence of the man she loved made her doubly keen 
and increased her beauty. She was so witty, so beautiful and so 
charming at these times, that George could not but remember, in a 
dim way, that she was altogether a pleasant companion, and this 
remembrance induced him to go again. Lucy descended to no vulgar 
arts in trying to make herself remembered. What she did was done 
partly through instinct ; it was the natural outgrowth of her love ; 
and the rest was the result of a fixed purpose to make herself as 
pleasant as she could. 

The next summer, when the bank failed, and her father told her 
the condition in which the failure had left George, she was very much 
troubled for him. She tried to think of some way in which to induce 
her father to help him without betraying herself. She knew the judge 
was amply able to do a thing of that kind if he cared to, and she also 
knew he would do it if he had any idea what was in her heart. But 
her desire was to find some way of accomplishing her purpose without 
showing her own feelings in the matter. While she was thinking how 
to accomplish this, something happened which made it unnecessary 
that the judge should do anything for George’s relief, and Lucy was 
spared the necessity of an appeal to her father. 

During the early part of the bank troubles Lucy saw some little of 
George, and her sympathy was so delicate and so heartfelt that the 
dim idea of her graces developed into a very distinct idea in the mind 
of the young man that she was a very pleasant companion. Still he 
wanted Lizzie, and looked back on the time he spent with her as the 
best part of his life, and saw no future without her ; yet this want did 
not keep him from accepting the sympathy which was so pleasant to 
him at this time. 

Lizzie was still in Brooklyn with her aunt. When she went there 

her intention had been to return to M at the beginning of the 

following winter, but her relatives had begged hard for more time, and 
Mr. and Mrs. Webb had written for her to stay, so she had spent the 
winter there. In the spring she talked of going back home, as she 
called it, not so much because she cared to leave the Southwick’s as 
from a sense of duty owed to those who had always been so kind to 
her. She had been very happy with her eastern relatives. The sur- 
roundings of their homes and their kindness to her had made the year 
spent with them pass rapidly, and she had no great desire to leave 

them. When she spoke of going to M , Miss Southwick asked her 

to defer any arrangements for a couple of weeks, and at the end of 
that time proposed a plan for going to Europe for the summer. This 
plan was no sudden thought ; it had been arranged in order to keep 
Lizzie from returning to the Webb’s, Miss Southwick thinking that 
every delay was bringing her so much nearer to her desire of keeping 
Lizzie with her permanently. 


68 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


The European trip was a thing Lizzie had long desired, and, after 
giving the matter some consideration, she decided to go, and in June 
Miss Southwick, her brother’s wife and daughter and Lizzie took 
passage for Europe. 


CHAPTEB XVIII. 

The bank went into the hands of a receiver. Everybody wanted 
his opinion as to how it would pay out. He said to all, during the 
course of the week following the closing of the bank, that he would 
be able to tell them in a few days, but he thought that it would pay 
out all right. That’s what they always say about a bank, after a 
failure. Mr. Moore said that, notwithstanding the fact that his losses 
had been heavy, as soon as the securities could be realized on, and his 
personal property sold, that it would pay every dollar and leave him a 
comfortable fortune besides. 

George Moore was not a little disturbed. He knew that while all 
this might be so, he would have to form a hew alliance ; that he would 
have to have a new banker, or that he would have to have more money 
from some source. His first plan was to make a loan. He saw a 
broker in Chicago, had an appraisement of the property made, and the 
broker wrote to all of his correspondents, but without success. The 
moneyed men said times were close, and they didn’t feel like loaning 
money on manufacturing property ; that it was of no account unless 
the mill was running and making money. George said that it was 
making money, but they would have answered, if they had answered 
at all, that the man who could run the mill was part of the property, 
and a mill had to have proper connections from all sides to make 
money, which it would not have in case of foreclosure. The receiver 
of the bank sent for him one day and told him that as his notes fell 
due they would have to be paid. Being, as he was, the son of the 
owner of the bank, public opinion would be against a renewal or 
extension. 

“You know,” said the receiver, “people understand that your 
father advanced you the money to buy this property and to operate it, 
and some of them say that the expenditures on the mill in buying new 
machinery have been quite large and have contributed to his em- 
barrassment.” 

“ Well, I suppose if I pay the paper as it comes due, it will be all 
right as far as public opinion goes. I guess they can’t growl about my 
part in the matter.” 

“ Certainly, that’ll be all right,” said the receiver. 

“ You were suspicious that I could not meet the paper, were you 
not, Mr. Martin ? ” 

“ I will confess, Mr. Moore, that I didn’t see how you could. The 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


69 


money coming from your father to rebuild and operate the mill, and 
then you being in debt to the bank, I would naturally suppose that 
this debt represented something that you did not have.” 

“ 1 have the money and will meet the paper,” said George. 

Why he said this he did not know. He did not have the money, 
nor did he know where he was to get it. But he felt determined that 
with public feeling as it was in regard to his father’s affairs and his 
connection with them, that he would work through. From the bank 
George walked back to the mill. He walked into the office, scratched 
his head, turned around three or four times, and turned back down 
street. He went to Judge Eliot’s office. 

“ Well, what’s the matter, George ? ” said the judge. 

“ I am here for professional advice— business advice. The bank 
holds nineteen thousand dollars of my paper. Fifteen thousand of it 
is for operating capital. I can grind out my stock, sell my flour, close 
up the accounts and pay off the fifteen thousand dollars. Then there 
is four thousand dollars to come out of the property. The mill, the 
water power and all are worth thirty-five thousand dollars, if they are 
worth a cent. The net profit for the last year is not less than twelve 
thousand dollars.” 

“ Well, that’s a good, clear statement, young man,” said Judge 
Eliot. 

“ It will show you just how I stand.” 

“ How long would it take you to close up your business V ” 

u I could grind my wheat, cash every barrel of flour and close all 
my accounts inside of thirty days. This would pay off the fifteen thous- 
and dollars that I speak of. ” 

“ That’s good. How long would it take you to make an invoice ?” 

“ I could finish it in two or three days. The making of an invoice 
is not a difficult matter in a flour mill. All I have to do is to re-weigh 
the wheat, count the flour and take the rest from the books. ” 

“ Well, you do that, George, and we’ll see what can be done. In 
the meanwhile I’d like to look over your books. ” 

“ That’s all right. I'd "be very glad to have you do it.” 

George went back to the mill in better spirits, though he had no 
definite encouragement. He immediately made his arrangements for 
taking a yield, which he could do very readily, as his mill was arranged, 
and then to re-weigh the remaining portion of wheat in the mill. He 
need not have done this latter thing, asthecutroff and taking the yield 
and his books would have shown the amount of wheat on hand, but 
for the sake of making it clearer to the judge he determined to do this. 
He immediately went to work that way. 

The next morning Judge Eliot was in the mill office by eight 
o’clock. He took off his coat, and, in company with George, com- 


70 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


menced to go through the books, and he did go through them after his 
own thorough fashion. Not an account was overlooked. He even 
took occasion to go over some of the additions. George took some of 
the books to his office that night, and the two together were with them 
until late. 

“ You’ve got a good set of books, George. You’ve taken good care 
of them, but I must take nothing for granted. I must see everything 
for myself. Some people say that I’m an old fogy, but I can’t help it.” 

“ I am very glad to have you do just what you are doing. I want 
you to know that everything is all right.” 

u Well, I guess we can finish them to-morrow. ” And so they 

did. 

The next day George had his invoice complete and the balance 
sheet drawn off, and it showed about five hundred dollars better then 
George had represented to the judge. 

“ Now, you see, ” said Judge Eliot, “ if I hadn’t gone through all 
this thing myself, I wouldn’t have known that it was all right. This 
shows up very well. ” 

“ What have you to say, judge, about what I am to do ? ” 

There was still enough of the boy about George that he could not 
retain his impatience for something decided at once. 

“ Well, George, I haven’t anything to say just now. I’ll think 
about it and see.” And without another word he picked up his hat 
and went out of the mill office. Here was more suspense. 

Day after day passed and not a word from the judge. The mill 
kept running along the same as before; George continued to buy wheat 
and sell his flour, but all the time he was laboring under the heavy 
weight of suspense. He looked out from under a heavy load. From 
day to day he felt more and more as if there were no hope for him. 
One afternoon, about three o’clock, something over a week after the 
judge had been at the mill, he saw him coming towards the office. He 
felt that the time had come when he would know what the judge had 
to say. 

“ There are one are two points that I want to look into again, 
George. I’d like to look at the books. Just lay them out here, if you 
please.” The judge worked over them for nearly three hours without 
saying a word. When he got through, he said: u Well, that’s all this 
evening. Good night.” 

George was just a little encouraged, because the judge had been 
there; he saw he still had the business in his mind; but it was a very 
meagre kind of satisfaction. The next day, about nine o’clock, he re- 
ceived a note from the judge asking him to call at his office at his con- 
venience; that he would be there all day. George’s heart was in his 
throat in a minute. 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


71 


“ At my convenience ?” he said, referring to the note; “ it is con- 
venient for me to go right now.” He put on his hat and coat and left 
the office at once. He knew there was something ahead for him. Ar- 
rivi ng at the judge’s office he found him busy. 

“ Be seated, George; I’ll be through here very soon.” 

A half hour of waiting. There is no use saying anything about it; 
it was a long, dreary half hour— a half hour heavily weighted. George 
felt a pressure on his breathing aparatus that was almost physical. 
The gentleman with whom the judge was doing business walked 
out. 

“ George, I have thought over your affairs very carefully. I have 
examined into the condition of your business so that I think I under- 
stand it. I think that it is a good business to make money at, and I 
think you can handle it very well, but you haven’t the security to offer 
in the regular way which will give you the capital that you want. 
When your father was in a position to help you that was another thing. 
I can think of nothing else for you to do than to take in a partner 
with capital. That is my advice.” 

“ That is all right,” said George, a little provoked that it had taken 
the judge so long to find out all this ; “ that’s all right, but where is 
the partner with the capital ? ” 

“ Well, I’ve been thinking about that. I know a man who will 
probably do as I advise in this matter. In fact, the money is with me 
to invest, but you know I’ve got to be very careful under such circum- 
stances.” 

“ Who is the man V ” said George. 

“ Well, we’ll discuss that later, George. If you had a partner with 
ten thousand dollars in cash you could take up all your paper by 
borrowing ten thousand more, which you could do if you had more 
capital in your business. You’ve got ten thousand dollars additional 
basis for credit. Do you feel like disposing of a third interest in your 
mill for ten thousand dollars ? ” 

“If you had asked me that question two or three weeks ago, I’d 
have said no.' As there’s nothing else for me to do but to take it, I 
am glad to do it.” 

“ Don’t be in a hurry.” 

“ It certainly looks to be the best of anything I can do.” 

“ I think it is,” said the judge. “ It would certainly be a difficult 
matter for you to do differently under the peculiar circumstances 
which control you. Now, if you want to close it up, I can give you the 
young man’s name, and you can talk to him yourself, and then I will 
settle the matter up for you.” 

“ I am under obligations to you, judge. I suppose I may now ask 
to whom I am to go ? Where can I meet him ? ” 


72 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


The judge began to grin, and said : “ You will probably find the 
young man down at your mill. His name is Bichard Herrick.” 

CHAPTEK XIX. 

The difficulties were solved. The money troubles were ended. 

A young man, or an older one for that matter, who is possessed of 
even ordinary ability, whose purposes are conscientious, who has or- 
dinary ambition, will, when placed in a position of responsibility, al- 
ways rise to the occasion. He exceeds the anticipations of his friends 
It was so with Bichard Herrick. 

Business was hardly so profitable during the next year as it had 
been in the past. New process mills were springing up in all direc- 
tions, and the mill of G. W. Moore & Co. had to meet competition as 
to the quality and cost of its goods in their own town. At le&st this 
was so during the latter part of the partnership year. Mr. Cooke, the 
New York commission merchant to whom George had been consign- 
ing his flour, stepped into the office one afternoon and said : 

“ I have come to tell you something about making flour.” 

“ We’re alwaysready to learn,” said George. 

u Well, sir, you’ve got to learn. I can tell you something that 
you don’t know. Mason & Co^ 1 Kitchen Queen ’ is just knocking the 
spots off you in prices, and then they are making as pretty a clear flour 
as comes to New York, and they’re beating you forty cents a barrel, 
and people can’t get enough of it.” 

“ What kind of wheat do they use ? Dick, you were down there 
the other day.” 

“ Using the same kind we are.” 

“Do you know where you can get some of their flour ? ” 

“ Yes, they’ve got some of it down to Foster’s grocery.” 

“ Bringing it right to your own door, are they V ” 

“ Yes ; there’s been a little of it coming in here.” 

“But hold on,” said Cooke, “I’ve got some of their flour. I 
brought it from New York with me. I tell you I’m going to show you 
something about grinding,” and he began to unroll a little package. 
He put a blue box full of the flour on the table. 

“ Now, there sir, just feel of that —just as sharp and nice — feels 
like sand. That’s the way we like to have it in New York. You 
want to grind with sharp burrs ; you want to grind high. Here, get 
me a sample of your flour — bring it in here, and bring me some water. 
I’ll show you where it comes in.” 

Mr. Cooke made a couple of doughs. “Now, here’s the ‘Kitchen 
Queen,’ and here’s yours. See, your flour’s beginning to work down ; 
getting kind of soft and sticky. Now, here’s Mason’s flour— don’t 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


7a 


she stand up nice, though ?— strong and white. Look at the difference 
in the color,” and he put the two doughs together and showed them in 
all lights. “ Big difference, isn’t there ? I tell you, Moore, you people 
have got to wake up ; you’re getting behind. Here, let’s lay these 
doughs down in the sun and let them dry out, and while we’re doing 
that we'll mix up the clear. That clear flour’s selling for more than 
your straight. I wouldn’t tell you all this if I hadn’t been doing 
business with you so long. You’ve got a good mill here, and there’s 
no reason why you shouldn’t make as good flour as anybody. Now, 
see here — see how those patents are drying out ? ” 

“ Don’t the difference in the age of the flour make some differ- 
ence ? ” said Moore. 

“ Now, just quit talking that way. Don’t blind yourself ; don’t 
throw dust in your own eyes ; it’s the difference between yellow and 
white, don’t you see ? ” 

“ I see it,” said Dick. “ They’ve got a better flour than we have, 
and that’s all there is to it.” 

“Now, that’s business,” said Mr. Cooke. “That’s the way to 
talk, Mr. Herrick. Now, all you’ve got to do is to crack your burrs 
and grind higher. That’s the way to do it.” 

“ Yes, and when we do that we’ve got to put in something besides 
the burrs to clean the bran,” said Dick. 

(They were re-grinding the bran on stones.) 

“ They’re using the Depeer machines down at Mason’s,” said 
Dick : “ and I understand they’ve got more than nine inches of skirt 
on the burr.” 

“ That’s it, and they’re grinding high, and they’re cracking the 
burrs.” 

After this talk about milling, and some other that was not about 
milling, Mr. Cooke left that evening for New York. George and Dick 
promised that they would do what they could to bring the flour up, 
and would send samples to New York as soon as the changes were 
made. Dick went down to visit Mason & Co.’s mill, but he did not go 
into the mill without first visiting the office. However, he did not tell 
them his purpose. He asked them about the bran machine, and the 
wheat cleaning machinery, and they invited him to go into the mill 
and see the work. As he passed along the grinding floor he saw that 
they w r ere using the diamond machine for facing on their middlings 
burrs, and noticed, what he was more glad to see, that a wheat burr 
which had been taken up on account of its being hot in the neck had 
not less than seventy furrows. 

“ Do you crack that stone ? ” said Richard. 

“ Yes,” said Mr. Mason, though he was not disposed to be very ex- 
plicit. “ The machines are on the next floor,” and they went up stairs. 


74 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


Richard did not take much interest in the bran machines, and he 
thought that he could arrange that very readily himself. He went 
home, cut out the eye of the burr until there was only ten inches of 
skirt, and then he split the lands, of which there were forty originally, 
which gave him eighty furrows. All this he did, one at a time, while 
the mill was running. They ordered a bran cleaner and in time were 
ready to try the experiment with the cracked burrs and higher grinding. 

u Well, how do you like the flour, Dick ? ” said Moore, after they 
had been running a while. 

“ It feels sharper, but I can’t say that I like it. I guess you might 
send a sample down to New York to-night.” And there came a report 
by wire : “ Grinding improved. Color not up. Look for holes in your 
bolting cloth.” 

Dick could not help but smile at the last phrase. 

“ Well, Webb, what do you think of all this V ” he asked. 

“ Well, there’s one thing I think, Dick, and that is that you can’t 
keep these burrs which have the narrow lands in face while you’re 
cracking them.” 

“ I guess that’s so.” 

After this they changed their grinding. It was neither so high as 
had been recommended to them, nor so low as it had been before ; it 
was a compromise. They didn’t crack the burrs with a pick, but went 
over them with a diamond machine which they purchased. 

About this time a great millwright happened along. He knew all 
about Mason & Co.’s milling, and he knew all about everybody’s 
milling, and he said the secret of their milling was rebolting and 
scalping. 

“ Now, you put in my scalping apparatus and do some rebolting, 
and you’ll beat the world. If you do that you’ve got to put in six new 
bolts.” 

There was a good deal of talk, and finally the mill was shut down 
to make the change. Four thousand dollars went into it, which in- 
cluded the purchase of three pairs of smooth rolls in addition to their 
germ rolls, which they had before. The plan of this arrangement was 
to have four reels on which to bolt the chop, and one reel for each 
smooth roll. They took a little flour off each of the smooth roll reels 
and sent the cut-off to the chop chest. They sent everything which 
went through a No. 4 cloth of the tailings reel, or germ reel as it was 
called then, to a dusting reel. The accumulation of the dust room 
went into a reel, where it was bolted, and the middlings from this 
went to the dusting reel. The dustings from the dusting reel were 
squeezed on a set of smooth rolls, bolted on a reel by itself, and the 
cut-off from that reel sent to the chop chest. The returns under the 
last reel of this chest went back to the head. Said this great mill- 
wright : 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


75 


“You see, everything is rebolted. Everything’s got to come out 
clean and it keeps a-going until it is clean.” 

In time the mill was ready to start on the basis of the new arrange- 
ment. The great millwright had impressed George Moore with the 
idea that the mill was going to be a success, and that their troubles 
were ended. 

“ How does it look, Dick ? ” said Moore. 

“ Well, you know, the stock hasn’t got around in a very good shape 
yet, and it’s pretty hard to tell.” 

Late that afternoon they made some doughs to compare with 
Mason & Co.’s flour. It was improved, but not up to the mark. The 
flour was still soft in the dough, and then it dried out a little yellow. 

“ Well, maybe it’ll be better in the morning,” said Dick. 

“Yes, I guess it will,” .answered Moore. “The mill will be 
warmed up by that time.” 

In the morning they were both eager to note the result. 

“ Looks good, does she this morning, Dick ? ” 

“ We had a good run last night,” said Dick, “ but I can’t say that 
it exactly suits.” 

“ Well, maybe I’m mistaken. We’ll make some doughs and see.” 
They did so. 

“ Well, this won’t do. I declare I believe this flour’s worse than 
it was before we made the change,” said Dick. 

“ What ? How’s that ? ” 

“ Well, I think we’ve spent our money for nothing.” 

“ Maybe the millers don’t understand their business’” said Moore. 

“ Well, maybe they don’t, and I’m pretty sure I don’t. But here 
comes the millwright.” 

The great millwright walked into the office in a very large manner. 

“ Well, how is she this morning ? ” he said. 

“ We’ll look around and see.” And they did. 

“ Things look pretty well,” said he, “ but they’re not grinding just 
right.” 

“ Maybe we had better go down stairs and straighten it out,” 
said Richard, and the great millwright went down below and set the 
burrs, and after a time they tested the flour again, but it was little, if 
any, better. 

“ Well, I was a little afraid of it,” said the millwright. “ I wanted 
to do this thing as cheap as I could for you, but there’s some of that 
stock up stairs that needs another purification, and I guess you’ll have 
to get another purifier, another pair of smooth rolls and another reel, 
and I know that’ll fix you all right. You’ll have the best mill in the 
state and make the best flour. If you do that you’ll have one pair of 


76 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


smooth rolls more than Mason has, besides having the same purifier 
arrangements.” 

“ What’ll that cost?” 

“ Oh, I don’t know; we’ll make it as cheap as we can. You see 
we’ll have to put in about three extra elevators. I guess it’ll cost 
about eighteen hundred dollars.” 

“ Well, that’s awful,” said Moore. 

“ If we put in that machinery, will you guarantee the result? ” 

“ Oh, yes,” said the great millwright, “I’ll do that.” 

They put in the machinery, but Dick was not at all confident. 
Moore, owing to the eloquence of the great millwright, was still 
somewhat impressed, especially w T hen in his presence. They put in 
an extra conveyor to carry the returns to the chop elevator, that is, 
they ran in the dustings and stock from the roll reel into this, where 
they had it all consolidated into one return stream. It was not long 
until they were ready to make another start. At first the flour looked 
pretty well and Moore was encourged, but in a few days it was worse 
than ever. Everybody but the great millwright was disheartened. 
In this emergency he claimed to have found a missing link. Again 
they spent a little more money but with no satisfactory result. 

They were fast walking into their capital. 

“ Well, by the time we get through with this, if we ever do, we’ll 
have no money to run the mill with,” said Dick. 

“It looks that way, certainly. We’ve already spent more than 
we’ve made this year,” added Webb. 

“ Things look awful bad in the mill,” said Dick. “ In spite of all 
our machinery, we are not cleaning our feed. This thing can’t go on 
much longer.” 

“ Can’t we get a miller from Mason & Co. ? ” 

“ I don’t know. Both their men have been with them a good 
while.” 

CHAPTER XX. 

Everybody about the mill was disheartened. They had a mill 
well equipped as to the quantity and quality of machinery, but then 
there was the mill of Mason & Co., which as far as any one could see 
was in every way inferior to theirs in respect to machinery and gener- 
al equipment, but which was making better flour than they could 
think of making. The little mills around the country were competing 
with them in quality, and altogether the situation was distressing. 
The great millwright came around again, and told what he had been 
doing for various mills. 

“ Why,” said he, “ Jones & Co., down here, were in a terrible bad 
shape when I took hold of them, but now they are all right,” and he 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


77 


told stories to illustrate how very simple some people were and how 
very smart he was. He did it with an air of self-complacency and 
ease, and there was a sly grin playing around his mouth while all this 
was going on, which betokened what he would have regarded as 
modesty. He told how he would go into a mill, how he would look 
around, and how he would know that they were doing poor work, and 
by a few changes and the addition of a little machinery everything 
would move along satisfactorily ; how he had agreed with the parties 
to give them thirty days trial of the new machinery before they would 
pay for it, and they called him into the office and said it was all right, 
and how well pleased they were, and gave him a check for the whole 
thing the second or third day after the mill was started. 

“ I wish you could do some of that kind of buisness for us,” 
said Dick. 

41 Well, I’ve been thinking a good deal about your mill since I was 
here, and I have about come to the conclusion that there’s too much 
draft on the burrs.” 

44 Why, it’s the same draft and the same dress that they’ve got in 
Mason’s mill.” 

“ Yes, but I believe Mason’s burrs run a little slower than yours. 
Why, down here to Jonesboro, at Crabs & Crider’s — ” and then began 
another story about how great the millwright was and how simple were 
Crabs & Crider in comparison. But Dick brought him around to the 
point again. 

“ Would you have us change the speed of our burrs? ” 

44 No, I don’t know as I would do that. There’s something I don’t 
like to say, but do you know I don’t believe your miller knows how to 
run this kind of a mill.” 

“Well, get us one that can — that’s what we’re looking for.” 

“ I think I can get you a man,” and it was agreed that the great 
millwright should furnish a miller. Webb took a secondary position 
for a time. He had the good sense and good judgment not to resent 
the idea. 44 If there’s anything about it that I don’t know, I want to 
find it out,” he said to himself. The other miller came and told what 
a great man was this millwright ; but he couldn’t do anything with 
the flour. Letters came from New York which suggested that the 
flour was no better than before — worse, if anything. The mill was 
losing its eastern trade for a high grade flour. 

The great millwright came around again while the new miller was 
running the mill, and by his aid succeeded in selling them another 
purifier. Things went along in this way for about a month, without 
change. Nothing that they could do seemed to rid them of the 
muddy colored flour. In the dough it was sticky, and it dried out 
about the color of a piece of manilla paper— yellow. They took a 


78 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


yield ; four bushels and thirty-eight pounds. They had been figuring 
on four-thirty. Ruination never stared anyone more squarely in the 
face. It was an awful condition. 

A few days after this time Dick came into the office with a double 
handful of flour. 

“ Well, George, what would you say if I were to tell you that we’re 
out of our trouble? ” 

“ I’d think that I’d want to see you prove it.” 

“ Well, I am not prepared to prove it; but here’s some as nice 
clear flour as you want to see. Take it and look at it and dough it. I 
am satisfied with it.” 

“ Well, Dick, I’m glad to hear you say that. You don’t often go 
off half cocked. Tell me about it. What have you been doing ? What 
did you find out ? ” 

“Well, you know we’ve been returning everything. The dustings 
have been returning to the first chop reel, and the cut-offs have been 
returning, and the dust room stock has been returning, and the sec- 
ond middlings cut-off and the tailings — everything’s been going into 
that long conveyor and going back to first chop reel. Well, awhile 
ago we just had the biggest choke in that conveyor that you ever saw. 
The stream of returns got so big that the elevator wouldn't carry it, 
and it backed up into the conveyor and stripped every flight. The 
consequence was that there were no returns, there was nothing going 
back. Well, I don’t know what it was led me to do it, but before I 
knew how bad the choke was— before I knew they would have to shut 
down to straighten it out, I run my hands into the clear flour stock ; 
and here’s the flour, you see. It’s like walking from darkness into 
daylight.” 

By this time Moore had a dough made of it. 

“ George, it’ll dry out whiter than it is there in your hand. It’ll be 
whiter when it’s dry than it is when it’s wet.” 

“ Well, it looks nice, it looks nice,” said George. 

“You see this is the flour directly from the stone chop and the 
tailings. The dustings and cut-off and the dust room stocks are still 
running into the choke. They’re running out on the floor now.” 

“ Well, how do you know what kind of flour that’ll make ? ” said 
George. 

“ Why, I know that if we take the dust room stock out it’ll make 
just as good flour as this. I looked at it in its natural state. Now that 
there are no returns, the cut-off from the chop is nearly as nice as the 
flour itself, and there are very little dustings from the middlings be- 
cause they are so well dusted before they get into the dusting reel.” 

“ Well, what are you going to do with this stock, this dustings and 
cut-off that you speak of ? ” 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


79 


“ I haven’t fully made up my mind as to all the details, but on 
general principles I’ll tell you this : I’m going to bolt this stock 
by itself ; I am going to handle it just as independently as if it were 
in another mill. I’m going to shut down this mill within five minutes 
and I’ll not start it up until it’s ready to make decent flour.” 

There was a quiet, undemonstrative enthusiasm in Dick when he 
was very much interested. He was never excited, but in times like 
these spoke in an earnest, forceful way, which to those who knew him 
indicated that he was intensely interested and somewhat excited. He 
shut down the mill and sacked up the choke, and told the men about 
the mill to go home and not come back till morning. He went home 
to work out his plans. They developed something like this : He took 
the chop and handled it practically as it had been handled before ; 
that is, the coarse middlings had been separated from the rest of the 
chop on the first reel. Then the flour was bolted out on three others, 
and the fine middlings tailed off from the last one and sent into a 
dustings reel. According to the original arrangement everything from 
this point began returning, but it was here that Dick commenced to 
make the changes. The dustings and cut-off from the last reel he sent 
into a reel by themselves, and into this reel also went a cut-off from 
the second middlings and the cut-off from the tailings or germ rolls 
reel. The dust room stock, which formerly went into the returns, he 
sent into the red dog. There was one coarse cut-off which went to a 
No. 4 cloth at the tail of the tailings roll which he sent to a pair of 
smooth rolls by itself and re-bolted on an independent reel, and sent 
the tail and cut-off from this reel into the red dog. The tail of the 
reel which re-bolted his dustings, cut-off, etc., he sent to a pair of 
smooth rolls by itself and then bolted it out on an independent reel. 
He re-rolled and bolted again the tail from the last roller reduction 
and re-bolted it as independently as before, and sent the final tail and 
cut-off to the red dog. Here was the whole thing in a nut-shell. 
The stock kept going ahead all the time. There was no going back, 
no returning of a lot of foul stock which had no way to get out of the 
mill except to wear its way through the flour cloth, or to be blown out 
through the purifier by a very circuitous route, or to get into the feed 
pile. 

By this everlasting system of returning the middlings could not 
but be dusty— very dusty. After they had passed through the dusting 
reel they were even then too dusty to be purified so as to make any- 
thing but gray soft middlings after they had passed through the puri- 
fiers. Everything in the mill seemed to be loaded with the nasty gray 
stuff from the returns, because of the heavy volume of stock which 
could not get out of the mill in any other way. The red dog was very 
rich, and it, in turn, worked over into the feed pile because there were 


80 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


returns back to the red dog from the red dog reels. Because the 
middlings on the purifier were soft the tailings were rich. The returns 
operated to the disadvantage of everything. 

It took Dick but a few days to make these changes. He only had 
to buy one piece of new cloth ; all the rest of the work was done by 
spouting. It was a simple question of separations ; thus no new ma- 
chinery was needed. He already had in the mill all the reels that he 
oould want. Feeling as sure as he did that, as a matter of theory and 
observation, he was correct, he could not but feel a little nervous be- 
cause of his great hopefulness of the results of so radical a change. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

The new mill had started, and it was a new mill. The machinery 
was the same, everything looked the same, but a change from old to 
new in the matter of system, of reductions and separations, could not 
have been greater. It was a distinct mill from the one of a few days 
past. 

There was no mixing of products, in that each grade of stock was 
handled and reduced by itself. Everything went straight ahead from 
the wheat to the flour packers and the feed pile. 

For a little while after the mill started— an hour or two, say— there 
was the old stock to work out of the mill. There were no middlings 
in the bins. Dick had everything ground out clean. The bins were set 
down so that all of the stock that went into them was new. Dick had 
been able to see the flour from the chop reels during the time that they 
had had the choke. The flour from the dustings and returns he had to 
wait for. The expression u returns ” is used here as meaning the cut- 
off from the last chop reel. It is spoken of as returns in a great many 
mills to-day, though there are no returns in such mills. At all events 
the flour from this stock was as white and bright as that from the 
break reels. Dick could not understand this ; he could not understand 
why it should be so nice, and still be made from the dustings which 
had come through a No. 12 cloth and the cut-off, because it was not 
good enough for clear flour ; it went into the other reels by itself and 
the product was as bright and white as the flour from the chop. He 
did not see through it. If he had thought about it long enough he 
would probably have realized that it was so because the stock was soft 
enough in the reels which bolted it so that it could bolt white. That 
part of the chop which was cut-off on the last chop was rendered 
sticky by the presence of fine middlings in that reel, and the dustings 
were ragged and flat because it was bolted though a No. 12 cloth on a 
dusting reel, which reel contained coarse and fine middlings, and for 
that reason could not bolt white. But taking the dustings which had 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


81 


gone through the No. 12 cloth and the cut-off which had passed 
through a No. 14, he had relatively a soft product, and by putting it 
into a reel by itself it was soft enough to bolt bright and white, as it 
did. Then there was the tail from this reel which was in good condi- 
tion, being well scalped, as we may understand by considering that it 
had passed through flour numbers before going into this reel. This 
stock— that is, the tail of this reel— after having been rolled on smooth 
rolls produced also a nice flour. It could hardly do otherwise. All 
this was a source of surprise to Dick. However, he did not reason 
much about it at this time, being too busy and too much interested in 
the development of the new product in the mill since the change had 
been made. He was willing to accept results of this kind without 
considering the reason. 

Notwithstanding the improvement in the clear flour, the really 
great change came in the middlings. Their state of purification was 
all that could have been desired. The load of stock having been taken 
out of the reels by the dropping of the return system, the middlings 
were perfectly dusted. They went on the machine in a bright, sharp 
condition— a condition which rendered poor purification impossible. 
The tails to the purifiers were thinner than he had ever seen them be- 
fore, and the middlings brighter and nicer than he had ever thought 
to see come from a machine. He had been in the habit of trying to 
purify his second middlings before, but it didn’t take long to show 
him that it wasn’t necessary to purify his second middlings here. 
They were scalped on a ^o. 9 cloth after the reduction of the first 
middlings by the millstones, and anything that went over the No. 9 
went to the tailings, consequently anything which went through the 
No. 9 was in good condition, the first middlings having been almost 
perfectly purified. The scalping arrangement was the same as when 
they had the old return system. They re-purified the second mid- 
dlings at that time for conscience sake; they looked so bad that 
they thought they ought to run them over a machine, and so did it, but 
without any benefit to the stock, whatever benefit it might have been 
to the conscience. No one who has never seen the experiment tried, 
through necessity or otherwise, can realize the great change that is 
made in the purification of middlings by thoroughly dusting them, 
and no one can know how entirely impossible it is to dust middlings 
where there are returns going into the head of the chop chest unless 
he has been through the mill. 

Dick was able to realize that there had been as great a change in 
the patent as there had been in the clear flour. His satisfaction in the 
change that morning when he got the mill to running was not merely 
from the consciousness of having done a good thing, but he felt at 
once that he had saved himself and his partner from business disaster. 


82 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


All of these things developed within a day of the starting of the 
new mill. Dick spent his time in the mill w T atching the various pro- 
ducts, while George Moore, in his anxiety, made numerous trips from 
the office to the upper floor to see Webb and Dick and ask how things 
were moving. While he hoped and inwardly believed that everything 
would be as Dick said, he could not but have misgivings. He at least 
wished to confirm what he looked for and hoped for. W e say that 
some things are too good to be true, and when we see these good 
things coming towards us we doubt them ; we look for some compen- 
sating drawback, and if it does not come it takes time to settle down 
to the realization of what belongs to us. 

“ Well, how is everything ¥ ” George would say to Dick. 

“ As far as I am able to see it is all right,” and then he would 
show George the various products, who, however, had never paid 
enough attention to practical milling to be able to fully appreciate 
what he saw. Like most office men his knowledge was confined to 
making doughs of the principle products and examining the feed pile. 
In the afternoon Moore approached Dick and said : 
u Is this all the feed we are making ? ” 

“ Where did you get ? ” said Dick. 

“ I got it out of the regular feed spouts,” he said. “You didn’t 
change them, did you ? ” 

“ No, there was no change.” 

“ Well, this is the cleanest feed I ever saw.” 
u That’s what I think.” 

The feed was clean. The mill was not overloaded with a lot of 
dead stock which it was wallowing around and crowding over towards 
the feed pile, but each part had only its own natural work to do and 
for that reason was not overworked. 

It was just before it began to get dark that the two partners went 
into the office to examine the samples of flour. They found that both 
their patent and their clear compared in every sense favorably with 
that of Mason & Co.’s. The low-grade was not so good. If they had 
had Mason & Co.’s feed they would have found it a little bit richer than 
their’s. The reason for the difference was that in Moore & Co.’s mill 
they were pulverizing some of the feed and running it into low-grade 
flour. They made cleaner feed than their rivals and in the same de- 
gree made poorer low-grade flour, and just that much more of it. 

They sent samples of the flour to New York and asked that the 
opinion of the trade be telegraphed to them at once. The morning of 
the day that they were expecting an answer a flour buyer from Boston 
came into the mill office. He was recognized as being a good judge of 
flour. George had sold him flour a year or two before, but only in small 
lots. Said he : 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


83 


“ I am looking for a first-class patent, but do not find it.” 

“ I guess we can accommodate you,” said Moore. 

“ Oh, yes, that’s what they all say, but they haven’t got the goods; 
that is, there ain’t anybody that’s got the kind of goods that I 
want that hasn’t a market for it. One of your neighbors down 
the road here is making the kind of flour that I want. What’s the rea- 
son you can't make it ? Don’t you use the same wheat that they do ?” 

Oh, yes, we both buy our wheat from the same section, and, you 
might say, the same farmers, and I guess you’ll find our flour’s what 
you’re looking for,” and he called to Dick, who was on the packing 
floor, and asked him to bring a sample of patent. 

Dick brought in a large sample of it and laid it dowm on the table. 

“ Why, that looks good,” and he picked it up, felt of it, and made 
a dough. “ Well, one can’t carry all these things in their eye,” he said, 
and he pulled a sample box out of his pocket and made a dough from 
the sample. 

“ You’ve got a good patent,” he said, but he said no more as to its 
quality in a direct manner. 

u What’ll you give for two hundred barrels of it ?” 

The buyer named a price, and it was quite fifty cents more than 
they had been able to get out of their flour on the same market. This 
was the kind of talk they wanted to hear. They sold him the flour. 
That afternoon they received a dispatch from New York which con- 
firmed their hopes and which offered them a price to arrive which was 
like a streak of daylight through their previous troubles. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

The change from the return system, as it was called, to a straight 
method of bolting by the abandonment of returns, might be figured 
out to mark a revolutionary epoch in milling. It meant a revolution 
in the business condition, and in the work done by many at the time 
when a change was made by a large number of mills. However, it 
would hardly be fair to dignify the change from that which was wrong 
to that which was right by calling it a revolution. It was certainly a 
change from wrong to right ; it made the new process of milling a suc- 
cess ; it made purification a possibility ; it showed the millers of the 
country what a natural milling product was, something which they 
could not know during the days of returns. They had the natural 
product of the mill mixed with a lot of impure stock, which rendered 
it unrecognizable when compared with the same class of stock, or the 
stock found in the same place in the mill, under more favorable condi- 
tions. 

No change was ever made in any mill which did not carry with it 


84 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


unexpected troubles and annoyance such as was not looked for in the 
beginning. Such was the case in Moore & Co.’s mill. As they looked 
back on the change in after years it all seemed pleasant and nice, and 
none of. the difficulties which attended their efforts at this time left an 
impression with them. A miller may plan a change in his mill, and 
feel so certain as to how it is going to come out that he is willing to 
assert that no further changes are necessary in order to accomplish re- 
sults that he expects at that time. But it very seldom turns out in 
this way. It may be there is an improvement, but one change sug- 
gests another ; unexpected difficulties turn up, either in a mechanical 
way or in the character of the stock as it passes through the mill ; ma- 
terial which it was expected might take a certain course is found en- 
tirely unsuited for its expected classification. When the miller makes 
the examination he is disappointed ; he finds that it belongs in an- 
other part of the mill, and it is altogether possible that there is consid- 
erable difficulty in the way of getting it there. Possibly a long con- 
veyor has to be constructed, and then, maybe, an elevator has to be 
fixed. Having determined the necessities for such devices, it then re- 
mains to locate them. A good position for the conveyor has to be 
sought, and then the means of driving, and all this is fraught with 
some difficulty; shafting has to be taken down, possibly, in order to 
locate a driving pulley ; next comes an elevator— a clear way within 
certain limits, has to be looked up for that ; probably it has to run 
through a stock bin ; — and altogether much has to be done to get every- 
thing around to a working condition again. These mechanical diffi- 
culties are puzzling and annoying, but they belong to a class of annoy- 
ances which are soon forgotten ; there is nothing vital in them. But 
it is the essential milling troubles, those which have to do with the 
flow of stock, which leave the most lasting impression on the mind of 
the miller. This is something which has solely to do with the matter 
of his business, his trade, and, in the end, the commercial prosperity 
of his mill. A mill may be ever so well constructed mechanically, and 
present the finest arrangements, but still not be a mill in all that that 
word implies ; it is a machine. We hear of mills where the spouting 
is put together with blue-headed screws, and everything is nicely var- 
nished or painted ; but then we must know that blue-headed screws 
and varnish and paint have nothing to do with the production of cheap 
flour, or flour which will have a respectable standing in the market. 

Moore & Co.’s mill had only been running a few of days when 
the question of yield came up. The great millwright had been around. 
Moore took him up stairs to show him the flour and the middlings and 
all. He wished to make him feel badly. 

“ Well,” said he, with a very large air, as he stuck his thumbs in 
the arm-holes of his vest and threw his shoulders back and his head in 


DIAGRA31 OF MOORE & CO’S MILL BEFORE THE CHANGE. 





MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


85 


the air, “ I guess you feel all right now, don’t you, Moore ? I guess I 
straightened you out all right, didn’t I ? You have nothing to com- 
plain about now, have you ?” 

“ Well, no, I guess not,” said Moore ; “but I can’t see that you 
have anything to do with this. 1 don’t know that you are at all re- 
sponsible for the results as you now see them.” 

“ How’s that— how’s that V What do you mean, Mr. Moore ?” 

“ Well, I mean just this, to be frank with you : you didn’t do our 
milling any good. We gave you every chance, and Dick came in here 
and fixed it all up as you see it.” 

The great millwright was nonplussed for a time, but he looked up 
smiling. 

“ Now, look here,” said he confidentially, “ don’t you believe any- 
thing of that kind. I make a rule never to say anything against any- 
body, and especially never to say anything against any man’s partner, 
and I’m not going to; but I just want to say this, that I won’t tell 
you all I know, George, because I don’t want to say anything against 
anybody. Now, Dick Herrick’s a mighty nice fellow, I guess, and he’s 
mighty sly, but he ain’t sly enough for me, and he wants you to think 
that he straightened out this mill ; but I tell you that he hasn’t done 
anything of that kind. I’ve been millwrighting for twenty years, and 
I’ve been about mills, and I say that mill is just as I left it; I know 
it. Dick may have changed a spout or so, or done something to make 
it look like a change, but don’t you believe that he’s done what he says 
he has.” 

“ Oh, that won’t do ; that won’t do,” said Moore. “ It’s the flour 
that tells the story, and it’s the money there’s in it that emphasizes it. 
No, that won’t do.” 

“ Do you want to know how to get twenty-five cents more out of 
your flour— how to make it twenty-five cents better ? ” 

“ Well, I wouldn’t object,” said George, in a cynical manner. 

“ Well, I’ll tell you. Throw away about fifty cents worth of stock 
into your feed-pile. You can do all that kind of milling you want to, 
but that isn’t my kind.” 

“ But our yield is lower than ever it was,” said George defen- 
sively. 

“ How do you know V ” 

“ Why, look at the feed.” 

“Ah, that won’t do; that won’t do, Moore. You never saw as 
clean feed as that before, did you ? And you never thought it could 
be made, did you ? ” 

“No, I did not.” 

“ Well, it can’t. Now let me put a flea in your ear ; it can’t hurt 
anything. Just let me tell you something. Don’t you say a word to 


86 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


Dick about it, but just you go and ask him to take a yield, and then 
see what he’ll do— see what he’ll say, and you’ll find that you’ve got to 
account for richer feed than this, and you’ll find that just where there’s 
a difference between my flour and the flour you're a making now that 
there’s more than that much difference in the cost ; don’t say anything 
to Dick about what I’ve been telling you.” 

What had been said made some little impression on George’s mind ; 
not much, but just a little ; it made him apprehensive. After all, how 
could so great a change be made in the flour by such simple means ? 
It didn't look reasonable. His own argument did more to lead him to- 
wards suspicion than did that of the great millwright. Still, Dick was 
interested in the mill, and, as George said himself, why should he do 
this? But yet Dick might be mistaken. Maybe there’s something 
getting away here that we don’t know about. 

In a short time after this he said to Dick : 

“ Well, Dick, what do you say to taking a yield V” 

u I say that I’d be mighty glad to take one, but you know that 
won’t tell us what we’re doing now. There’s the old run, which was 
an expensive one, that will be mixed in with this yield.” 

They made their cut-off that night, and the next day ground out. 
Thus the mill had only been running a few days on the new system, 
and it had a run of several weeks on the return system to effect it. 
Four bushels and thirty-seven pounds. That was bad. Not quite so 
bad, however, as another yield which they had taken before. 

“ We’ll run a week,” said Dick, “ and then take another.” 

It was a long week to George Moore. Dick was not at all appre- 
hensive, still he was anxious to know the result. Moore fought his 
suspicions, but the more he thought about it the more anxious he be- 
came. It is always so with suspicion ; it grows; it will feed on air. 
If Moore had known j ust a little about milling he would have looked 
at the feed as it was carried out of the mill and seen how clean it was. 
The week ended, as the longest week will, and George was not very 
tardy in making his calculations. 

“ Can this be possible ? ” he said audibly, and he went all over his 
figures again. He even went over the wheat receipts and the shipping 
account to verify the packing register, and it was all right there. A 
mistake was not possible. Four bushels and twenty pounds was bet- 
ter than he could believe. Dick believed it, and another yield taken a 
week from that time verified its truthfulness. Moore was heartily 
ashamed of his suspicions, and never said a word about them to Dick 
Herrick. 

CHAPTER XXIY. 

Lizzie and her aunt returned from Europe in the fall, and Miss 
Southwick immediately began to plan for the coming winter. But 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


87 


Lizzie said she must go home ; that she had stayed away from M 

much too loug already. There was decided opposition all around to 
her going, and not the weakest came from a young gentleman friend 
of the South wicks, who tried to persuade Lizzie to make her perma- 
nent home in Brooklyn. His suit was warmly encouraged by iViss 
Southwick. There was no reason why Lizzie should not marry him 
from her point of view ; he had everything to recommend him. Liz- 
zie acknowldged all this, but said she did not love him, and that this 
was a sufficient reason for refusing his suit. Her friends contended 
that if she had not given her heart elsewhere she could learn the lesson 

of love, and so Lizzie was accused of having left her heart in M , 

and could not convince them to the contrary. 

She was decided in her resolution to return to M by a letter 

from Mr. Webb saying that his wife was not well. Lizzie only waited 
long enough to pack her trunk and make necessary preparations be- 
fore she left Brooklyn. 

Mrs. Webb’s illness was not a serious matter, yet it was a comfort 
to have Lizzie in the house, to take charge of things, and cheer and 
wait upon the invalid. These duties kept her so busy that she had no 
time to regret leaving her Brooklyn friends, otherwise so great a change 
in her surroundings might have caused her some regret. 

It was about dusk one evening, just after Lizzie’s, return, that 
George Moore, in going home from the office, overtook her on her way 
to Lucy Elliot’s to take tea. He had heard that she was at home. In 
fact, it was his step-mother who gave him the information. This lady 
no longer looked on Lizzie as an undesirable person— one who must be 
kept out of George's way at any hazard. The fact that Lizzie had 
relatives of wealth and position, and that she was likely to be Miss 
Southwick’s heir, made her a more desirable match for George than 
Mrs. Moore would have supposed possible a couple of years before. 
Then that lady did not hold so elevated a social position in her own or 
others’ estimation as she had done previous to the bank failure. Her 
judgments were biased somewhat by this fact. 

“ If George won’t marry Lucy Elliot, and he has had plenty of 
chance to do it if he intended to, why he might as well marry this girl. 
She’ll probably bring him some money, and she’s better without it than 
some of the girls he might take. If she is the niece of the miller, she 
is more the niece of the Southwick’s.” Thus reasoned the lady to her- 
self ; so, when Lizzie came home, she was the first to tell George of it. 

When George saw Lizzie ahead of him he quickened his steps until 
he overtook her. He and Lizzie greeted each other quietly and with- 
out visible embarrassment. It was more as though they had seen each 
other only a week or so before, than if it had been two years since 
their last meeting. They walked along slowly, talking of Lizzie’s trip 


88 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


to Europe, and comparing impressions of what they had seen there. 
This was the outward expression. In reality they were each thinking 
of the changes which had been wrought by time in the other. George 
thought that Lizzie had changed very little, as was indeed the case. 
She had simply added a little more self-possession to her bearing. She 
was less of a girl and more of a woman. 

They reached the gate of Judge Elliot’s house. Lizzie stepped in- 
side the gate, which George closed after her. They stood a moment 
to finish what they had been talking about, when George held out his 
hand to say good-bye. She gave him her’s, which he covered with his 
other, thus holding it in both of his. Then he said quietly, interroga- 
tively : 

■“ Lizzie ?” 

Lizzie looked up quickly, saw a pair of earnest, questioning eyes 
looking at her, and dropped her head a little. Then she felt a woman’s 
need of postponement and rallied. She drew her hand from his, threw 
up her head a little, gave him a half smile, and said : 

“ I’m afraid Lucy is waiting for me, Mr. Moore. I must go now. 
Good evening.” 

Then she turned abruptly and walked quickly up to the front door, 
leaving George in a dazed, uncertain condition. Was it possible that 
she cared for him, or had she evaded him only through motives of deli- 
cacy — through a desire to save him further pain and humiliation V He 
walked on, thinking of it and wondering, and when he reached home 
was surprised that the uncertainty gave him so little anxiety ; that he 
was able to think so quietly of her and her feeling for him. 

The two girls were together some time that evening, and Lizzie 
was unusually silent, leaving Lucy to do the greater part of the talk- 
ing. She was thinking of the look she had seen on Lucy’s face the 
evening of the party at her house, when George had asked her a sec- 
ond time to marry him. She knew what that look meant, and won- 
dered if the feeling which produced it was still there. She decided 
that she must watch Lucy and find out how she felt. 

She did not have long to wait, for after tea George came in to make 
a call. He was in the habit of spending an evening or two every week 
at the Elliots’, and had chosen to make a call this evening, while both 
girls were there. The look of welcome with which Lucy greeted him 
was sufficient to convince Lizzie that she entertained the same feeling 
for him that she had two years before. 

In a short time Dick came in. He was also in the habit of spend- 
ing an occasional evening with Miss Elliot, who was very kind to him, 
and made him feel very much at home in her father’s house, and very 
much at ease with himself. He did not know that Lizzie was there ; 
if he had he would only have made a little more haste to have gotten 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS, 


89 


there. His feelings, also, had not changed in the two years which had 
passed. 

Lizzie did not know him for a moment after he entered. Of course 
she had heard from her uncle of the changes which time had brought 
to him as regarded his money and business prospects, and her uncle 
had not been faint in his praise of Dick’s business ability in general, 
or his special ability as shown by the way in which he had brought the 
mill out of its difficulties. All this she had heard several times since 
her return, but for all that she was not prepared for the change which 
had occurred in the young man’s personal appearance. She saw a 
young man of fine presence ; one who knew how to carry himself ; a 
young man with a serious face and a self-contained air which would 
have made him noticeable anywhere. He was in no particular inferior 
in personal appearance or attraction to his partner, George Moore ; in 
fact, was rather a handsomer man. Lizzie was surprized. Dick had 
always been an attractive, pleasant companion ; but here was a man 
of the world, finished as to his appearance. How could so short a time 
have made so great a difference V She did not understand it. Before 
the evening was over, however, she accepted it as a pleasant fact. She 
no longer questioned. The evening passed pleasantly to them all. 
Lucy had felt some fear as to what effect Lizzie’s presence would have 
on George Moore. She could not forget the look in his face as he had 
stood in the window talking to Lizzie and she watched for its re-ap- 
appearance. But she saw nothing of the kind. Lizzie was perfectly 
quiet in her conversation with him, and he accepted her manner as his 
standard in talking to her. So Lucy felt somewhat less anxious, and 
was her own bright, vivacious self. 

When Lizzie was ready to go home, Dick very quietly asked to ac- 
company her. George had decided to do the same thing, but found 
that he had been too late. He had had no idea of reckoning in Dick 
at all. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

During the year which followed Lizzie’s return, Dick saw much of 
her. He had always been a frequent visitor at the Webb’s, and his 
successes had not made him forget old friends, so before Lizzie was 
again an inmate of the house he was often there. Her presence only 
served to draw him there more frequently. Dick had never disguised 
the fact from himself that he loved Lizzie Gardner. From the first his 
one idea had been to make himself more worthy of her, to place him- 
self in a position in which he could ask her to be his wife, to be able 
to offer her a home which was in some degree w r orthy of her. Like any 
man who is truly in love with a good girl, he did not think that he was 
or would ever be worthy of her. He only tried to approach more nearly 


90 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


his ideal of her husband. That he could offer a pleasant home he felt 
assured. Thus far he had succeeded in his ambition, but as for him- 
self, he still felt that he was not worthy to be what he desired towards 
her. Dick had little self-conceit, and as regarded his position towards 
Lizzie there was absolutely none. He showed his love for her very 
plainly whenever he was with her. She could do nothing which es- 
caped his notice. His every look betrayed his feelings, and every one 
understood that Dick Herrick was a lover of Lizzie’s. 

There had been no word spoken of love between the two. At first 
Dick had been too distrustful of himself, and too uncertain of Lizzie’s 
feelings for him, to say anything which approached love, and latterly 
there had been no need of speech ; he understood his position and Liz- 
zie’s feelings without the necessity of explanation. 

When Lizzie first returned to Mr. Webb’s she had been rather anx- 
ious to go back to New York, as she felt more at home there. Her 
Parisian dresses did not harmonize with the homeliness and plainness 
of her aunt’s house, and the luxury and refinement of which her pretty 
clothing was the sign, seemed to be an inseparable part of her nature. 
But as the days passed she ceased to think of the barrenness of her 
surroundings ; there was something else which took their place, and 
left her no time to notice it ; her mind was full of other things. She 
did not fully realize this ; but she knew she was happy, that her life in 

M was satisfying, and that she craved nothing else. She had not 

stopped to think that a walk or a drive with Dick was enough to fill 
her thoughts for a whole day ; that a glance of his eyes, or the pressure 
of his hand, as he said good evening, was enough to make her happy 
for hours. She did not realize this either at first or afterwards ; her 
love for him grew with her, and she never knew when she first realized 
it. It was a part of her before she realized it. 

The sympathy between the two was complete ; they needed no 
word to tell of their love. Each recognized it, though there had been 
no sign of its existence given by either beyond what was given through 
the eyes. Dick was waiting until he felt that Lizzie was ready for 
him to speak. He knew that she would rather their relations remain 
those of friends for the present, and he respected her wishes too much 
to say anything which would alter them. 

George Moore realized the relation between Lizzie and Dick per- 
haps sooner than any one. He saw Dick quietly assume the right to 
take Lizzie to and from the choir meeting on Saturday evening. He 
watched him as he took a place at her side whenever they spent an 
evening at the same house, and realized that Dick was gaining what 
he had sought in vain. This knowledge came to George gradually and 
naturally. The poorly defined and utterly forlorn hope which he had 
in his mind when Lizzie first returned to the village, died so naturally 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


91 


that George forgot that it had existed at that particular time, and only 
remembered that he had tried to win Lizzie a couple of years before. 
Still he did not think of her as he did of other women of his acquaint- 
ance. He had a tender feeling for her, a feeling of sentiment which 
was very natural towards a woman whom he had once loved, and who 
had treated that love so kindly and tenderly. 

It was a natural thing for George to turn to Lucy at this time as 
he had done once before. In fact, the companionship between them 
had never ceased. She had always been his friend, he thought. He 
had not realized that he had been more to her than a friend, that her 
one hope of happiness centered in him. Perhaps it was well that he 
did not. The slight touch of uncertainty was a good thing for Lucy’s 
happiness. Lucy had felt more certain of reaching this happiness since 
Lizzie’s return. She saw nothing to make her distrustful ; Dick was 
certainly in love with Lizzie, and George showed no sign of having 
ever cared for her. Perhaps she was mistaken in supposing that he had 
ever done so. What was there to indicate it but the one look she had 
seen him give Lizzie in the window ? and might she not be mistaken 
in that look V If he had loved Lizzie why did he not show it now ? 
Lizzie was free ; Lucy knew, at least, that she had given Dick no en- 
couragement by word. This was the way in which Lucy reasoned, and 
she got much encouragement from it. One evening when George 
asked her to be his wife she thought that her fears were at rest for- 
ever ; that she was perfectly happy. Her love for George was strong, 
and had fed itself on such uncertain food as not to be exacting. George 
was not a very ardent lover, but he was remiss ; he was with her all 
his spare time, and attentive to her wishes in every respect. It was 
not this. It was that there seemed to be some depth which Lucy did 
not reach, some want in his nature which she did not fill. They neither 
of them realized this. They only dimly felt it, and this made a slight 
barrier between them. Perhaps, of the two, George felt this distance 
between them the more acutely. Lucy was more satisfied, for the mere 
fact that she loved him was almost enough for her ; she required very 
little return to complete the measure of her happiness. This is a com- 
mon experience, that the one who loves most is the happiest— requires 
less sympathy to complete the inward life. George felt the want of a 
complete companionship, yet he was not an unhappy man. Lucy de- 
ferred her every wish to him ; she lived in his wants, and in the ful- 
filling of them. The truest happiness comes when the giving up of 
one's individual wishes, the submission of one’s self, is shared alike 
by both— when a middle course is found in which both are satisfied. 
This is the result of a complete sympathy between a man and a 
woman. 

Lizzie felt very happy in the knowledge of the engagement of 


92 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


George and Lucy. She had a sincere love for her friend, and had in- 
stinctively felt from the first that Lucy’s happiness depended upon 
George. When she found that this happiness was secure she rejoiced 
with her friend. Then, again, she was glad that George had found 
some one to take the place which she could not fill. 

Only a few months elapsed before the two were married. George 
desired that their home should be established as soon as possible. His 
surroundings in his father’s house had never been very congenial, and 
since his father's failure and his own success the situation there had 
not improved. Mrs. Moore was growing decidedly unpleasant, openly 
so, since she had not her customary surroundings, and the fact of 
George’s success, coupled with that of his father’s lack of it, did not 
serve to increase her amiability towards the former. This made George 
doubly anxious to have his own home as soon as possible, and Lucy 
was not averse to having him more fully her own. 

Their home was a present from Judge Elliot. It was a beautiful 
one — a fit setting to Lucy’s brilliant beauty and charming manners. 
And it was esentially her's. George seemed a trifle too quiet for it. 
When their friends left it they felt, perhaps unconsciously, that she 
made the home, not the two together. 

George enjoyed his new life very much, and was always at home 
evenings. He enjoyed his wife’s beauty and ability, and the comforts 
of being under his own roof. A man never seems to have a rightful 
place until he is married and makes a home for himself and his wife. 

Lizzie and Dick had been prominent figures in the brilliant wed- 
ding ceremony of their friends. They were both very happy. During 
the evening, when most of the guests had left the house of Judge 
Elliot, they found themselves alone for a short time in an alcove. 
They had been talking about the wedding and the happiness of their 
friends, and about the new home, when their own personal relation to 
a possible new home came to them both, and made them silent for a 
time. Finally Dick spoke, very quietly and in a natural, every day 
manner. 

“ Lizzie, when are we to have our home ? It all rests with you. 
The sooner we have it the happier we will be. My life is a little lone- 
some now.” 

Lizzie waited a moment, looking down. Then she looked into 
Dick’s eyes and said : 

“ I would rather wait a little time, Dick. I don’t want to be selfish, 
don’t want to keep you from a home or anything which will add to 
your comfort, but I believe we will be happier if we wait a little longer, 
and get a little more used to each other’s wants. I think it best for 
us both.” 

“ Maybe it is, Lizzie. I must leave it to you. Only whenever it 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


93 


is best, whenever you think it right, I am ready to make you as happy 
a home as I am able. I believe — yes, I am sure, that I can make you 
happy.’’ 

This was all that was said. They understood each other perfectly. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

Moore & Co.’s mill made money after it had once started on the 
right road. It was a monotonous success from a story-telling stand- 
point. One day was a good deal like another. The flour was sold con- 
tinuously at a fair profit, but there was a good deal of money to be 
made. In their struggle to get their mill righted they had spent a 
good deal of money, and their bank debt, which was always quite large, 
hung over them, and was particularly weighty during that depressing 
time in their business history when they were making such poor flour 
at so high a cost. There was then no profit in manufacturing and 
there had been a constant outlay for machinery and experiments in the 
effort to recuperate. The success turned the tide. It meant the pay- 
ing of the debt, and as they saw it fading away, they saw an accumu- 
lation which it was comfortable to anticipate. 

As the debt grew less they began to talk about additions to the 
plant, which meant increase of capacity, and after they had been run- 
ning something over a year on the new plan, they figured on additions 
which thev estimated would cost about four thousand dollars. They 
had all but contracted for the machinery to make the change, when an 
event, as unexpected as it was startling, changed all of their plans in 
respect to an increase of capacity. The question was not as to an in- 
crease, as it eventually turned out, but one which related to their be- 
ing able to do anything. 

It had been raining hard for several days, but no one thought of 
the connection which it might have with the business history of this 
mill. Dick was in Chicago at the time, and George Moore was awak- 
ened one morning, before daylight, to be told that there was no water 
in the race. It did not take very long to reach the conclusion that the 
dam had been washed out. The idea was confusing for a time, and 
then it was thought it might possibly be only a short break which a 
little time and a small expense would remedy. Morning would tell, 
and as the sun began to rise it illuminated a good deal of trouble. 
They could see fragments of the broken dam floating down the stream. 
George Moore telegraphed to Dick. As he sat in the mill waiting for 
him, and watching the fragments of the dam on their way down 
stream, he made calculations in his own way as to the cost of repair- 
ing the dam, and as time advanced the estimated cost could not but 
grow larger. By night nothing but fragments of the abutment were 


94 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


left. In the evening Dick Herrick had arrived, and he was told what 
had happened. 

“ Well, I don’t know what it will cost to replace the dam, but I 
believe it will cost more than we’ve got to put into it.” 

That was the most definite form of an idea that was approached 
that evening. On the morning of the following day some figures were 
made by a contractor who would undertake to replace the dam, and in 
conclusion Dick Herrick summed up the situation in this way : 

“We can put in a dam for about $15,000 which will probably last 
while we are putting it in, and perhaps several years besides ; that de- 
pends on the water ; but I don’t care to risk my money on that kind of 
a dam. We can build a dam which will probably be permanent at a 
cost of about $15,000, but then, again, the supply of water may not be 
permanent. You know that some of the best water powers in this 
country have had to be abandoned for want of a supply.” 

“ Well, what are you going to do ? We haven’t any money to build 
a $15,000 dam ? ” 

“Let’s go outside a minute,” said Dick. When they were out of 
the office he continued, “ There is just one thing to do, and that is to 
put in an engine.” 

“ And throw away the water power V ” asked Moore. 

‘•We can never throw away anything less than it is just now. 
We have no money to make a water power.” 

“ I guess you’re right.” 

The next thing was to figure on an engine. They got one for about 
six thousand dollars, besides the loss of time ; but the mill moved off 
all right after this, and they figured and realized a profit on every bar- 
rel of flour they sold. But here, again, was the engine debt, added to 
the one not yet wiped out, which they had been carrying before. They 
had begun to feel comfortable enough before the dam went out to talk 
about spending four or five thousand dollars in the mill towards an in- 
crease of capacity. The had to spend the six thousand dollars for the 
engine, and had to stand the loss of time without the addition. But in 
time even this debt began to fade away. The mill was operated care- 
fully and on a close yield. They had a good home trade ; they sold 
flour to arrive in New York, and had a little trade in Boston, and some 
points in New England. When this trade was dull in the winter they 
had the South as a market. 

One day Moore and Dick were sitting in the office talking over in- 
different matters, when Dick turned the conversation in this way : 

“ Moore, did you ever hear anything about that experimental roller 
mill that they're building in Minneapolis, or are going to build, or 
something of that kind ? ” 

“ Roller mill V What do you mean V ” 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


95 


“Well, I don’t believe I know ; but there seems to be some kind 
of talk about building a mill up there, and I believe that they are think- 
ing about using rolls instead of burrs for grinding wheat.' 5 

“ Oh, no, 1 guess not,” says Moore. 

“ Well, I don’t know. I was reading about it in a milling paper, 
and they don’t seem to know much more about it than somebody else 
who don’t know anything, excepting that they’re building some kind 
of an experimental mill and are going to do most of the work with 
rolls.” 

“ Oh, those fellows up there are always tinkering at something. I 
guess there’s nothing in it.” 

After a time they heard that the experimental mill had started, in 
the meantime having read a good many generalities in regard to it but 
nothing to convey an idea of what was to be done. Neither Moore nor 
Herrick took much interest in it, still it was a novelty and something 
to be talked about. There was not enough specific information to ex- 
cite curiosty, and then, people do not look upon experiments of this 
kind with the same interest that we would imagine would be the case 
when looking at it in after years. When we think of this experimental 
mill, which was the beginning of the reduction revolution in America, 
we wonder that we did not take more interest in it, but merely re- 
garded it as of very little importance. 

“ George, I learn that the experimental mill has started, and is a 
failure.” 

“ I guess that's no more than people expected. What did you learn 
about it ? ” 

“ Well, I heard that Governor Washburn was in Milwaukee mak- 
ing negotiations for millstones for the new mill that he’s going to build. 
I guess that is conclusive enough. He said so himself. He was at the 
Plankinton House in Milwaukee, and a reporter went there to talk pol- 
itics to him, and to find out what he was after, and he said he had 
come there to buy millstones for his new mill.” 

That was all that was said about it at this time. It was only a few 
weeks after this until the subject 1 came up again. After all there was 
much in this mill which attracted attention, and especially so for a 
mill which was pronounced a failure, and its failure was regarded as a 
settled fact. Said Dick : 

“I saw Carpenter last night. He had been over to Dayton, Ohio, 
and he said that they were making a hundred pair of rolls or roller 
machines over there. I asked him who they were making them for, 
and he said that it was a secret ; that they took him out in the shop 
and showed him the frames and some of the rolls, and he said that the 
rolls were fluted.” 

“ That’s strange. What else did he say ? ” 


96 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


“ Well, he talked a good deal about it ; but said that over there in 
the shop they showed the rolls and frames to everybody, and seemed 
to think that it was a big thing ; said that somebody was going to 
build a roller mill and use the fluted rolls instead of the burrs, and that 
they were going to make a thousand barrels of flour a day. But they 
didn't give any names, he said. It was a part of the contract not to 
tell who they were for or to say anything about it.” 

“ Somebody’s crazy, I guess. Don’t think Carpenter could have 
been lying, do you ? ” 

“ Well, I hadn’t thought of that. Jim is a little windy, you 
know.” 

But Jim was not lying. 

The rolls turned up in the Washburn mill in Minneapolis, and 
to many their destination was an open secret sometime before their 
shipment. 

Winter-wheat millers, as a class, did not recognize the full signifi- 
cance of the roller change. In the Northwest the impulse of the change 
from burrs was a desire to improve their milling ; in the winter wheat 
section the impulse was from force— it was the result of Northwestern 
competition. In this respect the changes from the old to the new pro- 
cess, and from the new process to gradual reduction were identical. 

This was the inauguration of the change to the system of gradual 
reduction milling. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

The- short history of milling in the Northwest is something like 
this : During the time when the hard spring wheat was ground into 
flour under the old process method, the value of the flour product was 
much less than that from the wheat of the winter wheat region. The 
wheat of the latter section was softer and had a tougher bran than did 
that of the Northwest, and by the ordinary low grinding millstone 
method would produce a flour much whiter than the same methods 
when applied to the hard, flinty wheat of the Northwest. Then again, 
the winter wheat millers had their white wheat which they could mix 
in with the other wheat to give color to the flour. The color which it 
gave was largely owing to the absence of color in the bran which, in 
the nature of the process, would be more or less mixed with the flour. 
St. Louis flour was then at its height. All kinds of flour which were 
made out of winter wheat went to New York branded as St. Louis 
flour. Thus the spring wheat millers were at a disadvantage with 
their hard brittle wheat. It was the disposition of the millers of that 
section to do what they might to alter this condition of things. They 
were on the lookout for anything which would help them. The winter 
wheat millers were not in need of improved methods at this time. 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


97 


Their flour was well received and it was popular. It was the millers 
who made the unpopular flour who found it necessary to make the 
effort to get up. Thus we had conditions favorable to improvement 
in the Northwest, and conditions which did not favor improvement in 
the winter wheat section. As a result of this we had the development 
of the middlings idea in the spring wheat region. It was an adaptation 
to foreign methods, but nevertheless it was something which would 
not have come about at the time it did excepting for the conditions of 
which we speak. In the practical working out of the middlings idea, 
we find the spring wheat flour supreme in the market, and we find the 
winter wheat millers moving along as followers in the new process 
production of middlings by burrs. The limit of the possibilities of 
such a process was apparently reached with such machines. It then 
followed to look for something which would produce a larger propor- 
tion of middlings, and hence a larger percentage of patent flour. As 
a result of this search the experimental roller mill was built ; however, 
it need not have been called experimental, as the system of gradual 
reduction had been firmly established in Hungarian mills some years 
previous to its introduction in this country. As a phenomenal success 
in the production of middlings by rolls, it follows that the introduc- 
tion of this process and the sale of the machines was a phenomenal 
success. 

After the completion of the experimental mill and the work of 
constructing the larger roller mill in Minneapolis, there was quite a 
dearth of information in regard to the process in the winter wheat 
section. The interest at first was largely that of curiosity, rather than 
a genuine business or commercial interest. Like all other great 
changes which are in prospect, the majority of people interested in 
them have little confidence in the outcome of the scheme. There is 
always a tendency to decry that which is new or radical. The roller 
idea was sufficiently radical to most of the millers of the country to be 
regarded as something which could not succeed. 

It was not long after this until there walked into the office of 
Moore & Co. a young man with a model of a roller mill and some little 
boxes of samples. One of the boxes contained clean bran, and another 
one bran flour, and still another some middlings which had been 
scraped from the bran and purified. Moore’s attention was first called 
to the display, and then Dick and the miller were called in, and they 
all gathered around and looked at the rolls and asked a good many 
questions about them, as none of them had heard especially of rolls as 
bran cleaning devices. The salesman was one of those quiet, effective 
talkers who did not speak of his machine as being a novelty, but 
mentioned a large number of mills in the Northwest which were 
cleaning their bran by rolls, and spoke of a number of others that were 


98 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


putting them in. He did it in a matter-of-course kind of a way, 
which was inclined to make a miller who did not have rolls feel 
lonesome. 

“ Has Grape & Co’s mill got these rolls ? ” the miller asked. 

“ Oh, yes. He’s got half a dozen machines, and he's going to put 
in two more. I’m going up there to get the order to-morrow. Just 
come from Green & Co’s mill. They’re going to put in a pair to clean 
their bran.” 

“ Selling a good many of these rolls, aren’t you ? ” said Moore. 

“Yes. Sold about fifty pair on this trip. Looking for the house 
to call me in. Got more in that line than we can do.” 

“ Well, I’ll confess,” said Dick, “ that I never heard of cleaning 
bran on rolls.” 

“ Why, that’s strange. Nearly everybody is using them— putting 
them in as fast as they can get them. We’ve shipped a good many 
rolls up to Minneapolis by express; freight too slow, you know.” 

“ What are these machines worth V ” asked Dick. 

“ Six hundred dollars a machine.” 

“ Whew ! ” 

“ Yes, they come pretty high, but they’re v$ry expensive to make 
and get them just right.” 

The price made Dick critical as to the process of cleaning bran by 
rolls. He looked at the feed again, and the flour. The flour looked 
all right and the feed clean. 

“ Is this all the feed you make ? ” he asked of the young man. 

“ Well, no, there’s some feed that’s made at the same time. I 
didn’t bring any of that.” 

“ Well, that’s just the stuff I’d like to see,” said Dick, and he 
called the miller. “Now here are the marks on the bran made by the 
grooves in the rolls ; you see how they go by looking at the machine 
here. Now I’ll tell you what I’m afraid of ; I’m afraid that these 
grooves, these cuts, will break lots of the bran into pieces just the 
width of the cut and knock out lots of lumps that it don’t clean at all. 
I’ll bet there is lots of small lumpy bran made by these machines, and 
while it may clean the bran which it don’t break clean enough, there’s 
lots of bran it just cuts up and don’t clean at all.” 

“I’m not a miller,” said the young man who was representing the 
rolls, “but there are a great many millers who are using them, and 
everybody who uses them is satisfied with them, and they say that 
they get cleaner bran and better flour by them than by any other w T ay. 
How much flour does your mill make ? ” 

They told him. 

“ You’ll need three double machines. We could furnish them to 
you in about a month.” 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


99 


“ Well, we’ll not order them now,” said Moore, laughing at his 
assurance. 

“ Oh, that’s all right,” he said, “ just order them whenever you get 
ready. I’d like to see you put them in, though, right soon, before 
everybody else gets them around here. But whenever you want them 
just let us know,” and he put up his samples, took a little walk into 
the mill and departed. 

The quiet, self-possessed manner of this young man made this 
much impression upon those interested in this mill : it merely led 
them to look into the system of cleaning bran by rolls. They made 
inquiries of millers who came their way, though few of them knew 
anything about it excepting mere heresay, and because of the meagre- 
ness of their knowledge they were suspicious ; yet there were one or 
two others who knew the method to be a success. Green & Co. put in 
a pair of rolls, and another miller in the near vicinity put in two pairs, 
and the novelty of cleaning bran in this way and the result led them 
to talk about it quite a little, and it was demonstrated to Moore & Co. 
that it was a success ; that there was so great a difference in the 
quality of the flour produced, as well as in the cleanness of the bran, 
that they felt it desirable to take steps in the direction of cleaning 
their feed in this way. With that in view they had another call from 
an agent of the house represented by the young man mentioned. He 
had practical experience in milling; he w r as a mill builder and a 
millwright. He told them how it was that they could grind a little 
higher, make more middlings in that way, and then, by making two 
reductions on the bran rolls they could get some nice middlings for 
the first reduction, which they could send in with the other stock to 
be purified. He mentioned a number of mills where this thing was 
being done. 

“ Do they send these middlings right into the dusting reel with 
the other stock ? ” 

t; Oh, yes. They do that a good deal, but the best way is to run 
the middlings into a purifier by themselves, and then send the clean 
middlings from this machine into the other purifiers.” 

“ Then we should have to buy another purifier ? ” said Moore. 

“ Yes, you ought to have another purifier.” 

“ Well, what do we need in the way of separating machinery ? ” 

“ Well, you want a couple of short scalpers, two flour reels and a 
short dusting reel for the bran middlings.” 

“ Let’s see,” said Dick, “ there’s eighteen hundred dollars for the 
rolls, three hundred and fifty dollars for the three scalpers and the 
duster, which makes twenty-one hundred and fifty dollars, and two 
reels which must be clothed, which would make about twenty-six 
hundred dollars; then there are some elevators and conveyors and 
spouting.” 


100 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


“ There’s the purifier you haven’t counted,” said Moore. 

“ Yes, that’s so. Well, its going to cost us four thousand dollars 
to get out of this if we go into it. Four thousand dollars for bran 
cleaning machinery; that looks pretty steep.” 

Then the agent mentioned again the number of people who were 
putting in these machines and developing improvements in their 
yields as well as in the quality and quantity of their flour, and 
altogether made them feel a little lonesome again. 

The four thousand dollar figure scared them. They figured it over 
again and figured it less ; but then they knew of the incidentals which 
must come, and they were scared again. However, it was not long 
until they felt impelled to order the machines. 

The cleaning of the bran by rolls in the new process mills of the 
winter wheat section was the initatory step towards the process of 
gradual reduction in the mills of this section. It was the use of rolls 
for cleaning bran which led to their farther use for reducing wheat. 
This was the entering wedge for their general introduction, and 
because of the importance of this fact in the history of gradual 
reduction milling in the winter wheat section, it will be instructive 
and entertaining to cite, as a typical instance, the manner in which 
the use of the bran rolls led to the full gradual reduction process in 
Moore & Co’s mill. 

It was quite six weeks from the time the rolls were ordered until 
they were received. The sale of rolls was larger than the facilities for 
their manufacture. There was a great deal of impatience displayed in 
Moore & Co.’s mill because of this delay, but in the meantime the 
scalping reels were purchased and set up, as was a dusting reel for the 
bran middlings, and a couple of reels for the bolting of the bran flour. 
The purifier was placed directly under the dusting reel, while the rolls 
were arranged for on the grinding floor. Two extra elevators were re- 
quired, and about seventy-five feet of conveyors in three distinct sec- 
tiofis. 

It was argued by Dick that the bran cleaning and separating ma- 
chinery should be distinct from that of any other part of the mill, that 
the separation of material should be as distinct as if the reels were lo- 
cated in another building. “ Thus,” he said, “ if there is any benefit 
in the use of rolls we shall see where it comes in.” 

The programme of reductions and separations was something like 
this : There was, as we know, three four-roller machines, that is, six 
pairs of rolls, and there were to be two reductions on the bran after it 
left the millstones, which allowed the use of three pairs of eighteen- 
inch rolls (for such they were), on each reduction. Then there was an 
independent scalper for each reduction, the first one being clothed 
with No. 28 wire and the second with No. 36. The product of the first 


DIAGRAM OF MOORE & CO’S MILL AFTER THE CHANGE 





















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MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


101 


scalper went into the duster, or, as it might properly be called, a mid- 
dlings scalper, which was clothed with Nos. 7 and 8 cloth. The pro- 
duct of this duster went to the first flour reel, and the tail went to the 
bran middlings purifier. The flour of this reduction was bolted through 
Nos. 12 and 14 cloth. There was a No. 4 tail cloth at the end, the pro- 
duct of which went to the tailings rolls and the tail to the red-dog. 
The flour cut-off from the first bran flour reel went into the second 
bran flour reel, which was clothed with No. 14 cloth with a piece of 
No. 3 at the tail. This tailings went to the feed, and the product of 
No. 3, together with the cut-off from the flour cloth, went to the red- 
dog. 

The purifier was arranged so that the product of the upper con- 
veyor could be run in with first middlings, and the product of the 
lower conveyor to a pair of smooth rolls which handled the dusting- 
stock, or to the tailing rolls, as might be desired. 

It was agreed that when the mill started up they would grind a lit- 
tle higher, and so they did. The mill had been running some hours, 
Dick having devoted his attention to the operation of the rolls, when 
he was attracted to the condition of the clear flour. 

“ It looks very specky,” said the miller, “ and I can’t bring it up. 
I’m not using more than half of the cloth that I did before we shut 
down, and its nearly all on the lower reel. The flour from the head of 
the first reel is specky— worse than I ever saw it.” 

Here was an unexpected trouble. The last place that they would 
look for annoyance was in that part of the mill which had given them 
no trouble before, and which had no connection with the bran rolls or 
the bran separation. They agreed to cut off some more cloth, think- 
ing that when the mill got warmed up it might look better, and de- 
voted their attention to the bran roll. 

The feed was cleaned out all right, the bran floor looked quite as 
well as they could have hoped for, but the middlings were not mid- 
dlings at all in the sense that they had expected. Dick found that he 
would be able to run a small portion in with his better roll stock, but 
none to his first middlings; that by far the larger bulk would go in with 
the tailings, and that the tail of the purifier was suited only for red- 
dog. Yet there was something in the character of the reduction which 
emphasized the fact that the roller method was in every way superior 
to the millstones. It carried with it the suggestion that they should 
be used for the other reductions on the wheat, and this was a part of 
the calculation of everyone who observed intelligently their use for 
bran cleaning purposes. 

But to return to the other trouble to which we alluded— that is, 
with the clean flour. It was the next day before a proper solution was 
reached. It was decided that it was hardly possible to get a good grade 


102 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


of middlings from the bran, for which reason there was no cause for 
grinding especially high on the wheat. They lowered the burrs so that 
they were grinding only a little higher than before the bran rolls were 
put in. It was after so doing that they noticed that the clear flour 
came up all right ; that they had to lengthen out the reels to nearly 
their original condition. Then it was that the miller, Webb, an- 
nounced that the clear flour had been run down on account of the high 
grinding, and that if they had continued in that way they would have 
had to use a finer cloth on the tail of the first middlings scalper. This 
was a new principle to Dick, and one which he fully recognized the 
force of, and afterwards used to great advantage in the elaboration of 
his milling processes. 

While it was not recognized that the use of the bran rolls was a 
part of a gradual reduction process in the production of middlings 
which could be purified for patent flour, it was recognized that by the 
use of such rolls the winter wheat must eventually be reduced. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Lizzie wrote to her aunt, Miss Southwick, telling her of her en- 
gagement. She wrote a very quiet letter, saying little beyond the 
mere fact. She knew well enough that the news would not be wel- 
come to her Eastern relatives ; Dick did not have money enough to 
make a welcome addition to the family. Lizzie received no answer to 
her letter. In the course of two or three weeks one of her cousins 
wrote to say that Miss Southwick had been very ill, so ill that at one 
time it was considered impossible for her to live. 

Lizzie immediately wrote again. This time she offered to go to 
Brooklyn to help in the care of her aunt. In a few days a short an- 
swer came from Miss Southwick. She wrote that she was too weak to 
say what she wished, but that there was no need of Lizzie taking so 
long a trip as it would be to Xew York ; that she was improving every 
day and would write more fully when able. 

Lizzie was somewhat surprised at the reception of her offer. She 
had realized that her engagement would be an unpleasant surprise to 
her aunt, but she had no reason for thinking that, after the kindness 
and love which had been hers, she would be treated so summarily as 
Miss Southwick's letter indicated. Lizzie waited with some impa- 
tience for another letter from her aunt, and in two or three weeks it 
came. It was as follows : 

My Dear Xiece: 

There is no need of expressing the surprise I felt in the news your 
recent letter brought to me. I had supposed that you had seen the er- 
ror of your mother's marriage, and would avoid making a like mistake. 
That any one with the advantages which may be yours by simply ac- 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


103 


cepting them should bury herself in a little hole like M , and marry 

a man who has neither advantages nor fortune to recommend him is 
astonishing. There is no way in which I can express the surprise and 
pain I feel that you should commit such a mistake. 

Now I cannot think that you have thoroughly considered wffiat you 
are doing. A mistake of this kind is easily remedied now, while later 
it is more difficult. My suggestion is that you come to me, and ask 
Mr. Herrick to release you from your engagement. I can make you 
happy here. I did before and I can again. Now, Lizzie, I want you to 
thoroughly consider this. 

I have made my will, fearing that I may not live much longer. It 
gives to you the bulk of my fortune should you marry a man of estab- 
lished position ; should you marry otherwise, you get nothing. I can 
see no reason for disposing of my money in a way that would not na- 
turally benefit you. I hope you will be wise enough to divest this mat- 
ter of all sentiment. 

Your aunt, 

Mary A. Southwick. 

Lizzie put this letter away and said nothing to Dick about it. Af- 
ter a short time she answered it, thanking her aunt for her offer of a 
home, and saying she could not accept it ; that she w T as determined to 
marry Eichard Herrick. She said that her husband would be amply 
able to give her a comfortable home, and that her happiness lay in 
marrying as she had intended. 

Miss Southwick waited again a few weeks. She did not answer 
Lizzie’s letter, but she did write to Dick. Her letter to him was char- 
acteristic. She pointed out to him that Lizzie would be much happier 
if she had a luxurious home ; that money was a softener of human ex- 
istence, and that Lizzie’s way of attaining this happiness was through 
a reasonable compliance with Miss Southwick’s wishes. She asked 
Eichard to release Lizzie from this engagement; that a young girl 
would naturally dislike to approach such a subject. 

Dick did not know what to do with the letter. He carried it around 
in his pocket for a couple of days before he showed it to Lizzie. Fi- 
nally he concluded she ought to see it, and so said to her, as they were 
talking together one evening : 

“ I had a letter from the East the other day, Lizzie.” 

Lizzie smiled a curious little smile, and said : “ Is there anything 
peculiar in getting a letter, Dick ? ” 

“ Well, no, there is nothing peculiar in receiving letters in general, 
but this particular letter was very peculiar indeed.” 

Lizzie held out her hand. 

“ I guess you had better let me see that letter, Dick.” 

“ Yes ; I think you had better see it,” and he took it out of his 
pocket and handed it to her. 

Lizzie recognized the hand-writing, and was not greatly surprised 
— nor was she surprised at the contents of the letter. She knew too 


104 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


well Miss Southwick’s determination. She read it quietly, folded it 
up, put it in the envelope and laid it in her lap. Then she said : 

“ I am sorry, Dick, that you should be annoyed in this way.” 

“ Dick took both her hands in his and said : 

“ Don’t think of it, my little girl. It was not for this that 1 showed 
you the letter. I thought you ought to see it. I have known all the 
time that you w T ere not doing yourself justice in marrying me. I am 
not and never will be worthy of you. No one could be, but you might 
find some one more so. What I want you to do is to consider your- 
self in this matter. Do the best thing for yourself, and I will be con- 
tent, whatever it is.” 

“ Dick, did you know that the Johnston cottage was to be vacated 
next month ? The Johnstons have bought a larger house and will move 
then V” 

“ No,” wonderingly. “ No, I hadn’t heard of it.” 

Lizzie looked down. 

“ I think, Dick, that it is about the size you and I will want, and I 
guess we had better get ready to move into it when the Johnstons move 
out. You go and see Mr. Johnston to-morrow.” 

Dick held her in his arms a minute very closely. Then she looked 
up and said ; 

“ Give me this letter, Dick. You need not answer it. I have one 
from my aunt which I think needs a further answer than I gave 
it, and I will answer this at the same time.” 

Dick and Lizzie were married in four weeks. They went directly 
into their little home. Lizzie said they could be just as happy there 
as if they had taken a wedding trip, and that it was better that Dick 
should save his money for his business. This was the keynote of her 
life— Dick and Dick’s interest. She has always known all of his busi- 
ness troubles and cares, and all of the pleasures which attend a busi- 
ness man’s career. She has lightened the burdens and intensified the 
pleasures through her intelligent appreciation of them and her sym- 
pathy with her husband. They are essentially one. All Dick’s strong 
points are developed through her and his weaknesses hidden and 
erased. She is a typical wife. Her husband’s love and appreciation 
make her life one which is unclouded. They have two bright, inter- 
esting children to whom both father and mother are devoted, and who 
show the care which is bestowed upon them. 

Last year they and the boy went to New York, and while there 
Lizzie called on her relatives. Her reception was kindly, but lacked 
the cordiality from her aunt which might have been hers had she mar- 
ried more as the elderly lady thought fitting. One evening Lizzie 
asked Dick to go over to Brooklyn to see her aunt. She said that she 
was old and ought to be treated considerately, and that besides she 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


105 


wanted her to see what Dick was. So they went over, and the old lady 
scrutinized Dick closely, watching him the whole evening, and when 
they were leaving she said to Lizzie, when Dick was not in hearing 
distance : 

u Your husband is not bad after all, my dear. I guess you are a 
happy woman— and your little boy is a fine fellow.” 

Lizzie took this as high praise of them both, and was satisfied that 
her relatives knew that she had a husband who was their equal in every 
particular. 

Lucy and George have no children, and in this respect miss much 
of the happiness which might be theirs. Lucy is still a brilliant, beau- 
tiful woman, and devoted to her husband, but George spends much 
time planning and thinking of his business which might be given to 
his home, and while not distinctly conscious of it, misses something 
from his life which he might have had had circumstances been differ- 
ent. He has about forgotten that he ever asked Lizzie to be his wife, 
but he never forgets the glimpses he has of the home of Dick and Liz- 
zie as he has seen them with their children around them. This home 
is his ideal. 

Mr. and Mrs. Webb are much with Lizzie. They are the same 
kindly people, and their one interest is in Lizzie and her children. 

The elder Mr. and Mrs. Moore have a comfortable home, but look 
back to the days of their prosperity with never-ceasing regret, and the 
farther they leave them in the past the brighter they look. 

As for Miss South wick, she is still alive and likely to live a good 
many years. Whether she will leave her money to Lizzie after all, or 
to some one else, she alone knows. Lizzie and Dick never give it a 
thought. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

In the spring wheat country the introduction of the gradual re- 
duction process was brought about by direct means, in the main. In 
the winter wheat country it came about in another way. We have 
seen how the bran rolls came to Moore & Co.’s mill. While they did 
not do all that was expected of them in a way to admit of higher grind- 
ing by the burrs, and the production of middlings by the bran rolls, 
which could be worked into patent, it was apparent to all alike as 
soon as they had started that it was the proper means of reducing 
wheat. All had known that these rolls were only a part of a process 
as used in a gradual reduction mill, and must have understood, if they 
did not express it, that the use of these machines to clean bran from 
millstones was only a make-shift. In truth, it was presented to them 
as one of the arguments for putting in the bran rolls, that they would 
be a part of the machinery which could be used in carrying out the 


106 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


full gradual* reduction system. It was apparent to those in Moore & 
Co.’s mill that machines which would make so good a flour from the 
bran as did these bran rolls would do relatively better when the mill- 
stones were not used at all as a part of the w r heat reduction process. 

This course of reasoning went on in a good many mills. The in- 
troduction of the bran rolls was an entering wedge of the roller system 
in a large number of mills in the winter wheat section. It amounted 
to putting in the last breaks first, but the effect was the introduction 
of the other breaks soon after, which resulted in discarding the mill- 
stones in the reduction of the wheat. Every one was prepared for the 
change. It was expected, and anything which was in the nature of 
gradual reduction, and anything which admitted of the less rapid in- 
troduction of gradual reduction machinery than the putting of it all in 
at once — as did the first introduction of the bran rolls — was readily ac- 
cepted by many millers. None could hope that it would be a perma- 
nent arrangement, but it was not so hasty nor so revolutionary in its 
character as the introduction of the full system at once. Then there 
was a great deal of talk about rolls not being the thing for soft wheat, 
and that the system had no place outside the spring wheat country, 
which made many of the millers a little careful and inclined to go as 
slowly as possible ; but the pressure was soon felt. Those who were 
engaged in general merchant milling, who were selling flour in the 
large markets, had no other choice than to accept the gradual reduc- 
tion system. 

Moore & Co. were representative, in their way, of the effect of this 
pressure. They were not the first to put in the roller process in their 
immediate section; they had always been just a little behind in the 
introduction of these new features of milling, for which reason they 
always felt the direct outside pressure leading to such changes. Their 
course was not an unwise one. The fact that the pressure was appar- 
ent was a certificate of the value of the process which they had 
to adopt. They heard reports from New York of the value of certain 
kinds of flour made by some of their enterprising neighbors which 
were surprising to them, and it was not long until they felt the neces- 
sity for the introduction of the same machinery. Many of the travel- 
ing salesmen in different establishments called upon them, knowing, 
as they did, that they would soon have to make a purchase of roller 
machinery. Herrick and Moore talked to them all without giving them 
much encouragement as to the time of the expected change. One of 
the salesmen said to them, as he leaned back in his chair in the office : 

“ I’ll tell you how it is, gentlemen, this roller system is a good deal 
simpler thing than you think it is. There isn’t much to it. We can 
fit you out mighty cheap and you won’t have to lose over two weeks’ 
time. Your bolting is all right ; you’ve got your bran rolls in, and 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


107 


you are bolting that stuff all right. Now all you’ve got to do is to take 
the bolts and elevators and all and just let them alone. You don’t 
need to make any changes, except to put a little coarser cloths on your 
purifiers and spout the stock from the breaks right into the chop ele- 
vator and start your mill to going, and she’ll run the same as ever she 
did. So really all you have to do is to set the rolls on the grinding floor 
and set them going and practically let the rest of the mill alone.” 

Another one, who was there a few days later, said : 

“ The roller system of milling is not fully understood by all who 
are engaged in the business of building mills. There is not one pro- 
duct from a roller mill which compares with that from a burr mill in a 
way to invite the same handling of the stock. I could arrange your 
mill in a very simple and inexpensive manner, and for the time being 
you would be satisfied with it, but while you are making this change I 
trust you will make it right — make it complete, sO that you will not 
have to be patching on to it at all times, so that your flour will take a 
front rank in the market at once.” 

“ Will we have to make many changes in the bolting?” asked 
Moore. “ Will not the present system of bolting do if we put in the 
rolls and scalping reels ? ” 

“ I would not do it in that way,” said the mill-builder. “ What I 
would prefer to do would be to make a list of your reels and purifiers, 
and make a diagram of the reductions and separations which is partic- 
ularly suited to your mill and the conditions of gradual reduction mill- 
ing. As I said, there is not one product of a roller mill which will cor- 
respond with those of a burr mill in a manner to invite the same hand- 
ling by the reels and purifiers. Such a system, which is complete at 
the outset, will save you from future changes.” 

“ That’s all well enough,” said Moore, “but such a system would 
take more money than we have got to put into the mill. Whoever 
builds our mill will have to take some of our paper anyhow, and if we 
were to adopt your plan it is possible that more of our paper would 
have to be used than you would feel inclined to take.” 

“ I guess not. We would very much prefer to build a mill and build 
it in a way that we believe to be correct, and give a firm the time they 
want to pay for it, than to build a less complete and less satisfactory 
mill and take less paper. We believe that the former method will 
yield a smaller proportion of losses in the end.” 

“ Well, there may be something in that,” said Dick. “ When a 
man will put up money on his ideas he generally believes in them.” 

But they were not ready to buy from him at this time. After he 
had gone Moore said : 

“Did you ever think, Dick, that if we spend much money for his 
machinery we won’t have any left to buy wheat with ? ” 


108 


A ROMANCE OF THE 


u Well, I guess that’s so, but I expect we’ll have to work it some- 
how. There doesn’t seem to be any choice in the matter of building 
roller mills.” 

In a day or two they had another call from a mill-builder. He was 
very familiar in his manner, and he said : 

“ Now, boys, I’ll tell you what to do. I have just fixed them up 
down below here and got them started, and they’ve got just as nice a 
running mill as ever you saw— selling their flour right along at good 
prices, and they ain’t got but four breaks and three pairs of smooth 
rolls, and their millstones that they grind their middlings on. We can 
fix you up without costing you much.” All you want is two more 
breaks on the corrugated rolls, and the two scalpers, and you are all 
fixed. Y ou’ve got everything you want for a year or two at least. Then 
if you want to put in another break, why put her in.” 

“That seems a pretty cheap way of getting a gradual reduction 
mill,” said Moore. 

“ Yes, it’s a cheap way and it’s a good way. I’m not one of these 
kind of people that believes in filling a mill so full of machinery that 
there is no room to get around, and having so many spouts and eleva- 
tors, and one thing and another, the stock gets lost.” 

He laughed big at this statement, and looked around for Moore and 
Herrick to laugh with him, which they did in a mild, sympathetic sort 
of a way. 

The pressure to improve their flour and put in the rolls was getting 
stronger all the time. Their commission merchant in New York ad- 
vised it more strongly every time he wrote. He told them of the splen- 
did prices that the people were getting for their flour who were making 
it in this way. Their agent in Boston reported the same thing, and 
said he was afraid that he would lose some of their best trade if some- 
thing was not done. They then had another talk all around with the 
people who had visited them before, and Moore was inclined to favor 
one of the cheaper plans of changing the mill. Dick was not. He 
said : 

“ I’d be very glad to get out of making a change if I could. I’m 
not at all anxious to go any more in debt than we are now, but if we 
have to do it I believe in taking what appears to be the best, and what 
we’ll get our money out of the quickest, and I believe that the best 
mill that we can build on the new system is what we want.” 

There was some little talk on this subject between the partners, 
and finally Moore said : 

“ This milling business is a pretty hard business. It has always 
looked as though it was making money ever since I’ve been in it, ex- 
cepting, possibly, for a little time there when we had our milling mixed 
up— and, on the whole, we’ve made money every year since I’ve been 


MILLING REVOLUTIONS. 


109 


in the business, and sometimes it looks as if we were making it big. 
But notwithstanding the money you've put in here, Dick, there’s more 
debt hanging over this mill and me than there was the day I bought 
into it. On general principles we’ve made money right along, but as 
a matter of fact we’ve had to spend it as fast as we’ve made it, and 
now we've got to go into it deeper than ever.” 

“ That’s all so,” said Dick, “ but there’s no way out of it, sol think 
we’ll have to hope that this is the last change that we’ll have to make, 
and try to make it the last one by making it as complete as possible. 

L & Co. seem to be building the best mills that are going up, and 

as they are inclined to sell us all the machinery we want and put it in 
and take our paper for it, I expect w T e had better do business with 
them.” 

And so they did. They built what proved to be a first-class roller 
mill. As with all mills, there had to be a few changes made after it 
was started, but it was complete, the general principles were all cor- 
rect, and the mill started again to reduce its debt. 

The mills which made changes by dropping in a few pairs of rolls 
on the grinding floor were not competitors of Moore & Co. Such mills 
were continually spending money and putting in cheap machinery in a 
cheap way in order to compete with their more successful neighbor. 
There are those who can always find a cheap machine which is war- 
ranted to do the work of something more complete. Such millers are 
the great contributors to the scrap piles. They serve to keep down the 
price of that kind of stock. 

* * * * * * * ** 

It is four years since Moore & Co. made their change to rolls, and 
in the meantime they have expended very little money on their plant. 
They stand in monumental isolation from many of the mills of this 
country in that they have not materially increased their capacity in 
that time. They were barely out of debt when the days of extremely 
close milling and hard times, as they are called, came to make milling 
matters very close. They are a little better off to-day. We find this 
mill, after years of struggling, barely out of debt. 


THE END. 



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